human nature
famous!dr baran al hashimi x journalist!female reader
warnings: nsfw MDNI!. pretty kinky. reader & baran are a mess for each other. reader is mid 20s baran is in her 40s.
a/n: i had a dream about this and i couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire day. so here’s whatever this is. enjoy <33.
part two
the email comes in at 9:12 am
you were already awake at your desk by the gift of god that was the office coffee. you haven’t really slept much. a dull, steady pressure behind your eyes that hasn’t gone away since sometime around three in the morning, and your phone feels heavier every time you pick it up.
you almost don’t open the email that has been waiting for you since you first sat down.
not because you’re busy, but because you already have an idea of what most emails look like during this hour. edits. corrections. something you did wrong yesterday that you now have to fix today.
but you were too curious for your own good and clicked it anyway.
lina is out sick. you’re covering the al hashimi interview. tonight. 7 pm. confirm.
you stare at the screen, your mouth now open in shock at what you just read. you? interviewing the baran al hashimi? most would kill for this coverage, and it somehow…landed on your lap?
you read it once more, a bit slower this time, like magically the words would rearrange into something else if you give it time.
“why do you look like that?”
you don’t look up when your coworker sofia walks into your space. you’re still staring at the email, like if you blink it might disappear and you can pretend this never happened.
without saying a word to sofia, you turn your laptop slightly toward her.
she leans in, squints at the screen, and then her eyebrows lift in a way that’s almost impressive.
“holy shit.”
“yeah…”
“that’s–” she sits on the edge of your desk, shaking her head a little. “that’s big.”
“i mean it’s last minute,” you say, already flattening it down before it becomes anything else.
“don’t sell yourself short! you’re interviewing dr baran al hashimi!” sofia says, like that cancels everything else out.
“it’s lina’s interview,” you correct. “i’m just–”
“don’t you dare say ‘backup’.”
“i wasn’t going go.”
“you so were.”
you close the laptop halfway, pressing your palm against the cold edge like that might steady the nerves in you.
the room feels too bright all of a sudden. too loud. someone across the office is laughing, and it’s sharp enough to make you wince. your skirt making your thighs cling uncomfortably.
“do i look like i’m in the mood for this today?” you ask groaning.
sofia studies you for a bit longer this time. your hair isn’t sitting the way it usually does. a few strands clinging stubbornly to your temple, damp with either sweat or exhaustion that seeped through your skin. you don’t look put together, you look held together, barely.
“no,” she says. “you look like you’ve had a rough night.”
“that’s because i did,” you shrug.
she stands up making her way to her chair, leaning back and watching you in concern.
“that’s okay babe, but you better get ready,” she says.
-
you confrim the interview before you can allow yourself to think too much about it. of course you do. there isn’t really another option. this was an opportunity people worked most of their lives for.
baran al hashimi rarely accepted interviews, and for her to agree to this sent a ripple through your office. editors talking too fast, all emails marked urgent, your company name suddenly sitting in conversations it had no business being in. people were already speculating what she’d say, what she’d reveal, what this could mean.
and then it got worse.
because it wasn’t just your company that got it.
it was you.
your name, attached to it like it was supposed to make sense. because people like her didn’t say yes. and they definitely didn’t say yes to people like you.
“hey–hey. you. my office. now.”
your stomach drops before you get the chance to get up.
your boss is already halfway turned, not checking if you’re following or not. everyone’s watching you now, pretending they’re not. a chill makes its way up your spine as you push your chair back and stand.
the walk to her office feels longer than it is, even though it’s just down the hallway it still felt eternal.
when you step into her office, she’s already pacing, phone in hand, the other dragging down her face like she hasn’t decided if this was the best thing that has ever happened or the start of a disaster.
she hangs up mid sentence when she sees you.
“close the door.”
you do.
“do you have any idea what’s in your hands right now?”
she doesn’t wait for you to answer.
“no actually, don’t answer that, because if you did understand, you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”
the words felt crueler than her normal jabs at you. your boss was a typical older woman that was never nice to anyone besides her ex husband that she wanted to win back. this behavior wasn’t new to you at all.
“fix…this. whatever this is,” she exhales frustratedly. “because in–” she checks her watch, laughing under her breath. “in a couple of hours, you’re sitting across baran al hashimi.”
hearing her name out loud does something to your chest. your face falls into shock and fear at the fact you will be handling something super exclusive. your boss notices.
“yeah. exactly.”
she steps closer now, lowering her voice. “do you know how many people tried to get her? how many real journalists pitched for this and got nothing?”
“and it’s yours now,” she laughs in disbelief or displeasure, you couldn’t tell. “this is the kind of interview that gets picked apart. every question you ask. every word. you ask something stupid? that’s it, she shuts it down. we lose it, and i get to explain to everyone why we fumbled the one shot nobody else got.”
she paused before continuing. “did you know that after we sent out the email that lina was sick, instead of rescheduling she asked who else was on the team…i listed a few names. yours included. she stopped me and asked to repeat your name. and then she goes, i want her. you. she wants you.”
the air left your lungs as you registered what she was telling you. baran picked you specifically? out of every other person that you were sure would do a far better job than you. she picked you.
“can you handle that?”
no, no you can’t. you want to back away and say that this was just some big misunderstanding that led to you standing here. but you don’t. you swallow back every doubt.
because this is a chance you don’t get twice.
you nod quickly. “i won’t disappoint you.”
by eleven, you’ve opened everything you can find about baran. there isn’t much. for someone people won’t shut up about, she doesn’t give them anything they can actually use. short interviews. press statements. a handful of clips that all say the same thing in slightly different ways and outfits.
you click one.
a press briefing. a dozen microphones crowding the frame. people and reporters talking over each other. and then.
baran al hashimi. she was a stunning woman to say the least, with a magnifying gaze.
a reporter asks something that you couldn’t catch, but her answer was clear.
“if you want a narrative, you’re in the wrong place.”
that was it. the clip ends. so you watch it again, and again, and again.
“god, you’ve played that like five times,” sofia says, tapping the edge of your desk.
“i’m doing my research.”
“yeah, well it’s annoying,” she groans. “are you trying to memorize her words or something?”
“no sofia, just go away.”
“gosh, are you always like this before interviews?” she tilts her head.
“like what?”
“like someone put hot sauce in your underwear.”
you don’t answer as she bursts into a fit of giggles, too focused on the task at hand.
“ugh you’re no fun.” she says, walking back to her desk that was right behind yours.
by the time the interview got dangerously closer, your notes were a mess.
half of the questions you spent hours preparing felt fake, like they weren’t of value. the rest felt too personal, you’re probably crossing a line you shouldn’t with them.
you rewrite the intro three times, your eyes have now sunken into themselves, begging you to look away from the bright screen.
you go back to the clips, the articles, the scattered quotes that don’t quite add up to a person. you start writing questions again, real ones this time, not the ones from the brief.
why did you agree to this interview?
do you care what people think of you?
what do they get wrong?
you hesitate on the last one, thumb hovering over the delete key, but you keep it.
the truth is, none of the clean, approved questions will get you anywhere near her. and whatever she is, whatever everyone keeps circling around without ever quite touching.
you lean back in your chair, eyes burning from the screen, and for a second you wonder if that’s the whole point, that there isn’t a version of her that adds up cleanly.
just whatever she chooses to show.
you save the document quick, like you might change your mind if you wait, and you close your laptop before you can reread anything.
-
the drive to baran’s house is longer than expected.
your hand stays tight around the steering wheel the entire time, fingers tapping nervously every time you stopped at a light. the radio was on low playing some of your favorite songs, but you weren’t listening to them. you’d spent the last thirty minutes trying not to think about the fact that this was actually happening at all.
dr. baran al hashimi had specifically asked for you.
not someone more experienced. not lina who’d been doing this for twelve years and had once made a politician cry on live television. definitely not someone with a blue checkmark and a media fellowship.
you.
you genuinely thought there had been some kind of mistake. a scheduling error. maybe someone from pr had mixed up the names in an email chain late at night.
because your articles were the kind people squinted at before asking, “wait, who wrote this?”
you were in that horrible phase in your career where nobody mentored you anymore, yet nobody trusts you either. you were too experienced to be excused. but too unknown to be taken seriously.
baran al hashimi did not do unknown. she barely did interviews with the known.
somewhere, somehow in this weird universe one of the most unreachable people in the country had maybe been quietly reading your work while you were fighting your coworkers for decent assignments and eating sad vending machine dinners at midnight in the office.
you kept trying to understand what exactly she saw in you. and even worse, what she thought she was gonna get from you.
by the time you pulled into the driveway, you almost wanted to laugh at how undressed you suddenly felt. a black skirt with a sweater that you spent your entire last months paycheck on, and a coat you borrowed from your mother.
her house looked unreal at night.
you’ve been around rich people, your boss being one of them. you’ve been to her house, even fed her dogs. but nothing came close to the house that was in front of you.
warm amber light poured through towering arched windows , turning the cream colored stucco into an almost honey gold against the dark sky. iron lanterns glowed along the exterior walls, their light shifting over tall trees.
it was the kind of house or more of a mediterranean villa that looked built for long dinners, expensive wine, and people who dressed accordingly.
people who aren’t you.
you sat in your car for a second too long staring at it. you could see your reflection in the windshield looking like a nervous mess already.
“get it together,” you muttered to yourself quietly, slapping your cheeks slightly to wake up.
then you grabbed your bag and forced yourself out of the car. the gravel crunched softly beneath your kitten heels as you walked toward the front door. the night was cool against your skin, but your face still felt warm somehow.
you knocked once.
almost immediately the door opened.
baran stood there in a black silk off shoulder top paired with cream colored pants, the top exposing just the right amount of her shoulder. her sleeves were rolled lazily to her forearms, curly hair loose instead of pulled back the way you’d seen in interviews.
she looked less like a doctor and more like something out of an old fashion campaign. a clean, sharp, and captivating lady.
your eyes flickered down for one second too long before you caught yourself. baran noticed almost immediately, of course she did.
“are you coming in?” she said calmly. her voice was lower in person, even softer than it was on television.
heat crawled immediately to your face.
“uh yeah, please,” you stutter. please? what is wrong with you right now?
you stepped inside, swallowed by the warmth. the house smelled like a fancy type of wood and coffee. it was dim inside with low yellow light from every corner, reflecting off dark wood furniture.
there were books everywhere, stacked on side tables, lining the built in shelves, scattered carelessly to make it look lived in but it was still deliberate somehow.
a record player hummed softly somewhere deeper in the house. your heels clicked loudly against the terracotta tile as you followed her further inside.
“you can leave your coat there,” baran said, gesturing toward a chair.
“right.”
your fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons embarrassingly. you were nervous. extremely nervous. she was watching you, no, staring at you and it only made you feel worse.
“can i get you something to drink?” she asked.
“water’s fine,” you let out a nervous laugh as she disappeared into the kitchen.
you set your bag down carefully on the dining table, acting as if it might break if you aren’t extremely careful. baran came back with two glasses of water, placing one right in front of you before taking a seat across yours.
you nervously pulled your recorder out.
“okay,” you say, trying your best to sound more professional than you felt. “thank you again for agreeing to this.”
baran lifted an arm and then rested it against the chair. your stomach tightened, feeling all the nerves crawl back up your spine. you cleared your throat slightly and clicked the recorder on.
the interview started normally enough. you asked questions about her career as a doctor, the press, the hospital. everything that mattered to her.
but you couldn’t help but notice baran looking at you in this almost unbearable way, steady and direct, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
everytime your eyes met hers, your chest tightened painfully.
“what’s distracting you?” she said at one point.
you blinked quickly. “sorry, i’m a little nervous.”
“why?”
you stared at her, a small smirk making it’s way on your face. she was making you feel like a school girl again, doing anything to impress her crush.
“because…you’re intimidating.”
baran tilted her head slightly, smiling at you.
“i’m not doing anything.”
you laughed despite yourself. “that somehow isn’t helping.”
for the first time all night, baran laughs. actually laughs, like she was watching something hilarious happening in front of her.
the conversation drifted easier after that, it was less formal. you forgot entire prepared questions because you kept getting caught looking at her hands while she spoke.
she had long fingers, with clean nails, and a gold watch you were sure could pay off your student loans.
at one point, she reached across the table to adjust the recorder slightly closer to herself. her finger brushed yours and your brain short circuited.
you hoped desperately that it didn’t show. but the way your mouth opened slightly, as if she’d shoved her hands down your pants told all.
when the interview ended, your pulse was tired from spiking constantly at everything she did. you reached forward to stop the recording, but baran’s hand beat you to it.
you flinched tearing your hand away from her warmth. neither of you moved, then the sound of baran clicking the recorder off made you come back to reality.
she stood up quickly. “i think we’re done with this part.”
you stared at her hands.
then at her face.
“…okay.”
“come with me.”
you should’ve asked why or where she was taking you but you couldn’t speak, body moving almost automatically behind her as if you were under some sort of spell.
she led you upstairs into her room, leading you to a massive closet that was bigger than your own bedroom.
rows of perfectly organized expensive clothes and shelves lined with all kinds of heels, jewelry, neatly folded cashmere. the entire room smelled faintly of her perfume.
your breath caught immediately, eyes falling on a dress hanging separately near the center. a vintage tom ford for gucci. a piece so stunning that everyone that got their hands on it had wanted to frame it, and yet here it was in the middle of a closet hanging righr before your eyes.
baran noticed you looking at it. “that one.”
“sorry?” you blinked, turning toward her.
“try it on.”
you laughed because surely, surely she was joking.
“you want me to wear your dress?”
“yes.”
oh, she was serious.
“why?”
baran walked closer slowly, stopping near the rack. “i want to see something.”
“that is a deeply concerning sentence.”
“you ask too many questions,” the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.
“isn’t that what i’m here to do?”
“yeah, but not right now.”
that did something awful to your stomach. you looked at the dress again. it was truly beautiful, and unlike anything that has ever touched your body before. then you looked back at her.
“you seriously want me to put that on.”
“yes.”
you should’ve said no, should’ve left then and there and excused yourself. you had so much work waiting for you at home and this will just push it back.
instead, you found yourself reaching for the hanger with shaky hands. the silk felt cool against your fingers.
“there’s a divider,” baran said, pointing behind you.
“right. yeah,” you nodded quickly.
the ‘divider’ or changing area was partially hidden behind a paneled screen near the wall. it wasn’t fully private. but just enough so no one could explicitly see anything.
you disappeared behind it with the dress clutched against your chest, your pulse already fast again. you felt like a teenage boy’s first time in a girls room.
this was absurd. none of your interviews went like this, not that you’ve had the privilege to interview many but still enough to know that this wasn’t very professional.
the zipper of your own skirt suddenly felt impossible to work with. your fingers slipping twice, feeling her somewhere on the other side of the divider the entire time.
she wasn’t speaking or moving much at all, just there. waiting for you.
by the time you finally stepped out, your heart was pounding so hard that it’s threatened to jump out of your skin.
the dress fit perfectly. too perfectly.
the fabric clung to your body like it had been tailored specifically for you, dipping low enough at the chest to make you instinctively fold your arms for a moment before stopping yourself.
baran looked up and went completely still. the silence stretched out too long, that you couldn’t tell if she liked it or hated it.
her eyes moving over every inch of your body like a hungry animal and you were merely her prey. your face burned under the attention.
“i uh, i don’t think im wearing this right,” you said nervously, a sad attempt at breaking the tension.
baran walked towards you in slow steps almost like she’s inspecting you. she stopped directly in front of you, closer than she’s ever been, close enough that you could smell her perfume again. it was something strong and warm underneath cleaner notes.
“stop fidgeting,” she said quietly.
“sorry, this is the weirdest interview i’ve done,” you laugh, she doesn’t. “not that you’re–”
“shh.”
baran’s gaze dropped briefly to your hands, reaching forward slowly giving you time to move away. but you don’t.
her fingers touched your wrist lightly at first. then slid upwards over your arm with unbearable slowness, smoothing against your skin until they reached your shoulder.
you stopped breathing completely.
her fingers adjusting strap, it wasn’t because it needed fixing. she just wanted to touch it. to touch you.
you with your warm skin. you with your pretty, nervous face. you with your soft lips that parted everytime she got closer.
she wanted to ruin you a little for that alone.
baran’s eyes never left your face. watching every reaction from you to her touch. every micro change of expression made something hotter coil inside of her.
“you get nervous very quickly,” she murmured.
you let out a shaky breath. “you think?”
she doesn’t respond. instead, her hand moved from your shoulder to your collarbone, lightly tracing the shape of it. your pulse was jumping violently beneath the tips of her fingers.
you became painfully aware of every part of your body she wasn’t touching.
baran stepped even closer. the silk of her top brushing against your arm. you couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not at this point.
her fingers continue their journey upward again, along the side of your throat, until her thumb rested briefly against your jaw.
internally, you were absolutely losing your mind. it took everything in you not to whine at the way her touch was so gentle. her touch made you feel like you were a fragile glass doll.
baran looked calmer now, more focused. as if she was trying to remember exactly what you look like reacting to her.
her thumb brushed agonizingly slow against your bottom lip. you whimpered softly before you could stop yourself.
something in her face changed at the sound, not softer, but darker, way darker. she wanted you, bad. and suddenly, she couldn’t stop imagining more.
what sounds you would make if she kissed you there. how your body would twitch if she pressed somewhere else. wether you’d let her or not.
you’d let her destroy you.
your knees felt like they were about to give out at any moment as her fingers moved downward again.
over your throat. then stopping at the center of your chest.
following the line of the dress slowly enough to make your entire body tense. you couldn’t think, you lost that ability two touches ago. you could barely stand there without shaking.
and the worst part, the absolute worst part is that you wanted her to keep going. to keep touching you like she’s doing.
heat rushed through you so fast it was dizzying.
you swallowed hard, baran’s gaze flicking up briefly at the movement. then back to your chest.
baran always looked controlled, but in this moment, there was tension in her jaw. her breathing had slowed. like she was holding herself back physically from doing something wrong.
her fingers traced the curves of your breasts, like she was trying to see how much you could take before falling apart.
your body reacted instantly every single time her fingers brushed the bare skin.
“you’re a shaking mess,” her voice sounded lower now. “hmm, i wonder why.”
you could see that this was torturing her as well, enough that you saw the flicker in her expression when your eyes met again. you noticed how her fingers pressed slightly harder against your chest before easing again like she immediately regretted it.
baran leaned a bit closer before realizing that there wasn’t much space between you two to move. you looked at her, and all you could think about was what would happen if she leaned in another inch.
if she kissed you. if she touched you properly instead of this almost touching that felt somehow more intimate than anything else ever could.
your brain kept flashing warning signs at you.
this is insane.
this is inappropriate.
you barely know her.
and underneath it all, you still wanted her anyway. badly enough to scare yourself a little.
baran’s fingers haven’t left your chest, her movements changing to her whole hand pressing down against your chest.
you almost moaned at that. it’s been a while since you’ve been intimate with someone, so every touch felt like fire under your skin.
there was a horrible magnetic pull between you, making the tension stretch so tight that it felt like a rotten sin.
and it only made you want her more.
then she stopped. like there was a switch that was flipped inside her. baran stepped back so quickly it almost startled you.
the heat in the room vanished just as fast.
“you should change,” she said, not looking at you.
“oh.”
you disappeared behind the divider again with your hands trembling enough to make everything difficult to do.
on the other side of the room, baran couldn’t move.
when you stepped back out, baran was still standing in the same spot. you thought she was pissed but she turned almost immediately when she felt you move.
“thank you for your time,” you said automatically, the professionalism sounding absurd now.
baran looked at you for a while, then nodded. “drive safely.”
and that was it.
-
you barely remembered the drive home. your body was heavy with exhaustion by the time you stepped foot into your apartment.
you dropped your bag near the couch, kicked your shoes off halfway to your bedroom, and collapsed onto the matress still replaying every touch in extreme detail. there was an annoying ache that kept you tossing and turning all night searching desperately for relief.
you don’t even remember falling asleep or if you took your clothes off.
-
the next morning, sunlight burned across your face hard enough to wake you. your phone was ringing somewhere near your pillow.
you grabbed it blindly, eyes barely open.
it was your boss. your stomach dropped. why was your boss calling you?
then, an email.
subject: al hashimi
baran al hashimi wants a follow up. come to my office first thing.
you stared at the screen with your mouth slightly hanging open in disbelief. you thought for sure baran would have called your boss asking you to be taken off the interview after the inappropriate interaction. instead, she asked for you back.
“oh my god–” you stood up so fast that you had to take a moment for balance to find you.
you looked at the time. 10:22 am. you were extremely late.
“shit shit shit.”
everything after that happened too fast.
you stumbled into the bathroom half awake, nearly knocking over your skincare products while brushing your teeth. your hair hated you today and refused to cooperate no matter what you did. one of your earrings had disappeared entirely. you found yesterday’s tights hanging off your desk chair and prayed they weren’t ruined.
your apartment looked like a crime scene by the time you left it.
coffee in one hand. your bag slipping off your shoulder. phone clenched between your teeth while you tried locking your door.
très chic.
the elevator took too long so you opted for the stairs instead, which left you a sweaty mess by the time you reached your car. traffic was worse than usual. someone honked at you after you nearly missed a turn because your brain kept remembering baran’s fingers on your skin.
you could still feel her hand on your chest if you thought about it too hard. so naturally your brain kept thinking about it.
by the time you rushed into the office building, very out of breath and definitely overheated, your head was pounding. and everyone was looking at you.
your steps slowed instinctively.
the usual office buzz had shifted completely this morning. conversations stopped halfway when you walked in. someone near the coffee machine literally whispered your name.
“what the hell,” you muttered under your breath.
then sofia appeared by your side out of nowhere.
“oh my god,” she said excitedly, grabbing your arm. “what did you do?”
“good morning to you too?”
“she requested a follow up with you specifically.”
“yeah, i read the e–”
“lina’s back.”
“really?”
sofia stared at you harder. “what. did. you. do.”
heat instantly crawled up your neck, images flashing through your head before you could stop them.
your stomach tightened.
“nothing,” you said too quickly.
sofia’s eyes narrowed immediately. “that was the biggest lie i’ve ever heard.”
before you could answer her, two other writers appeared beside your desk.
“was she scarier in person?”
“wait, is she actually hot or is that just the camera thing?”
“she never does follow ups,” someone else said from across the room.
“you were there for like, three hours.”
“no,” you said immediately, sounding less and less convincing to the audience surrounding you. “it was not theee hours.”
“fine, two and a half.”
you head snapped toward sofia. “how did you know that?”
“she has security.”
“what?”
sofia grinned, as if her answer made complete sense.
you hated that a part of you felt thrilled. actually thrilled. people who barely looked at you before were circling your desk wanting details. questions. information. everybody acted like you were the hot new thing.
and you liked it.
your chest buzzed with adrenaline as more questions flew at you.
“what did her house look like from the inside?”
“okay tell us, what really happened?”
your laugh came out nervous. “nothing happened.”
before anyone could push harder, a voice calling your name cut across the room.
“office. now.”
everyone went back to their desks quickly. you looked up to see your boss standing outside her office holding a file against her chest.
shit.
you stood up fast and made your way to her office, the door shutting behind you. she looked up from the papers in her hand.
“i don’t know what you did last night to make al hashimi request you again, but this is the biggest opportunity that has ever come across this office.”
you straightened at her words, sweaty hands brushing against your skirt. “good morning?”
your boss didn’t react. “do you know that she called me? asking for you.”
you didn’t know.
“lina is back in office.”
“i know sofia tol–”
“then explain it to me.”
your mouth went dry instantly. how exactly were you supposed to explain any of it?
oh yeah, your celebrity doctor interview turned into a psychosexual fever dream in a walk in closet?
probably not the most appropriate answer.
“she liked my questions,” you attempt.
your boss stared at you, as your fingers tightened around the hem of your skirt.
“what exactly happened at that house?” she asked, taking her glasses off.
“it was nothing inappropriate, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“that wasn’t my question.”
you looked away, big mistake. because now you looked super guilty.
your boss leaned back slowly in her chair, studying you.
“she doesn’t request people twice. especially not junior writers.” she said carefully.
“i’m not a junior.”
“you are to her.”
you swallowed. “she said she liked my writing.”
“and?” your boss scoffs.
-
that night you hurriedly clocked out and made your way to your car. you spent the entire drive to baran’s house trying to convince yourself this was still professional.
it wasn’t working. there was heat pooling down your stomach already. her touches were like bruises on your skin, that only made you come back for more.
before you left the car, you checked your reflection in the small mirror. reapplying your lipgloss and fixing your hair.
the house looked strangely warmer tonight, your hand barely reaching the door to knock before it opened.
baran looked different tonight as well.
dark grey cashmere instead of black silck, the sweater slipping off her shoulder like her top from last night but this time it looked more sultry.
you wanted to take it off her so bad.
“you came,” she said, a pleased look on her face.
“you asked me to.”
“come in,” baran stepped aside.
the second the door shut behind you, the energy felt different than last time. you noticed immediately that she didn’t make her way to the table you were seated in last night.
instead, she walked to her couch and waited for you to join her. you followed her to the living room but didn’t sit down.
“are we…are we actually doing the interview tonight?” you asked.
“do you want to?” baran looked at you while playing with the cuffs of her sleeves.
that should’ve been easy to answer. yes you wanted to do it, it’s what you’re here for.
“i–”
“don’t think too much,” she smiled as she stood up and stepped closer to you.
god. everything with her felt like you were being watched too closely.
baran’s eyes moved over your face with an amused smile before settling on your mouth.
“what are you wearing under this?”
you couldn’t fathom what she just said, eyes widening enough to make you look almost crazy.
“excuse me?”
her gaze dropped briefly to your blouse.
“it’s not a difficult question.”
the heat pooling down your stomach found it’s way further down.
“a bra?” you whispered.
baran exhaled softly through her nose, almost pleased. “cute.”
your knees nearly gave out.
“what is happening right now?” you whispered.
baran stepped closer again. now there was barely any space between you.
“you came back,” she said.
“i mean yeah you–”
“but you knew why.”
you wanted to throw up. because yes, you did know why, maybe not fully but enough.
enough that you’d spent some time in your car freshening up whilst pretending you weren’t hoping she’d touch you again.
baran lifted one hand toward your throat. her fingers settled against the side of your neck.
you couldn’t help but flutter your eyes shut at the sensation.
“look at me,” baran whispered softly.
you did.
and the look on her face nearly ruined you. she was barely holding herself together, her mouth drooling to feel your lips against hers.
then suddenly her hand slid lower. back to your chest. every nerve in your body lit up, letting a whine slip past your mouth.
baran’s eyes widened at the sound, a new wave of heat rushing through her body.
“baran,” you whined, too far gone to care what you sounded like.
the sound of her name in your mouth visibly affected her. she clenched her jaw so hard her muscle jumps.
“take it off,” she said calmly.
your entire body went hot as you stared at her in disbelief.
“are you serious?”
“does it look like i’m joking, baby?” she asked, taking a step back.
baby. she called you baby.
your hands rushed to the buttons of your blouse trembling as you tried to free yourself from the torment.
baran watched you the entire time. not offering help or rushing to take it off of you. just standing there looking at you like she wanted to devour the sight.
your blouse slippped from your shoulders, and your breathing was wrecked.
baran stepped forward immediately.
her hands slid up your arms first, fingertips following the same actions as last night, grazing your skin with patience.
then she leaned in and pressed her lips against your collarbone. you gasped for more. the softness of it all making you so dizzy.
baran kissed slowly along the exposed skin near your shoulder while her hands held your waist firmly now, grounding you in place.
your fingers instinctively grabbed onto the front of her sweater. every thought in your head dissolved the second her mouth dragged lower against you chest.
“please,” you whimper.
baran’s grip tightened at your sounds. her lips brushed the top of your chest again before she pulled back to look at you.
you felt very exposed. you body aching for more of her lips everywhere.
baran looked almost as desperate as you, her composure cracking slightly.
her fingers kept flexing against your waist like she was trying her best to restrain herself from doing more.
“you…you have no idea what you do to me,” she whispered against your mouth.
the sentence alone nearly made you risk it all and kiss her. your hands tightened in her sweater.
“please….please, please just–just–” you were a stuttering mess.
baran kissed you before you could say another word. her lips moving against yours, devouring your taste on her tongue. the sound of your desperate moans swallowed by her kisses.
her mouth trailing down to your neck, breath warm against your skin. the room seemed to blur, her scent and yours mixing together deliciously.
baran’s hands roamed possessively over your body, cupping your breast through the lace of your bra, drawing a soft gasp out of you. the desire escalated quickly, your bodies pressed together in a heated exchange.
her leg slipped between your thighs as she pushed you against the wall, rubbing against the growing wetness at your core.
clothes were discarded everywhere on the floor in a haze of pure need and desire, revealing baran’s olive skin, her breasts were full and inviting, her pussy already slick with arousal from your noises.
you felt her hands slide beneath you, stroking your throbbing clit, each touch making you moan loudly through her empty house.
baran dragged you over to the couch and straddled you, as she took control. her lips capturing yours in a needy kiss that tasted of surrender. your mind reeled with intensity, your pussy clenching around baran’s fingers as they thrust deeper, the obscene sounds of your wetness filled the space.
baran’s own arousal was evident as she grinded against your tigh, her breath hitching as she whispered sweet nothings that made you groan.
“you’re so perfect, baby,” she moaned. “go ahead let go for me.”
waves of pleasure washed over you, building to a peak until you cried out, your orgasm ripping through you harder than you’ve ever had before, as baran reached her own climax, leaving you both a trembling mess in each others arms.
the bliss lasted a few seconds before baran shifted away slightly from you.
“i– that wasn’t very appropriate,” you say your voice sounding rougher than usual.
“a little,” baran exhales through her nose softly.
“a little?” you laugh.
she looks at you then and instantly your body heats up all over again because she still has that look in her eyes. a look that insisted that she could crawl back on top of you and touch you again if she let herself.
“you should drink water,” she smiles.
“that’s your aftercare?”
“water is good for you.”
you laugh breathlessly and in disbelief. “there’s actually something wrong with you.”
baran laughs quietly as she crept closer to you again. your thigh brushes hers and neither of you flinch. you kept your eyes on her as she traced shapes down your front.
“you’re staring,” she murmured.
“sorry.”
“don’t apologize, i never said i didn’t like it.” she smiles against your skin. “you really do that when you’re nervous, apologizing like crazy.”
you groan quietly, covering a part of your face with one hand. “please stop noticing things about me.”
baran’s hand wraps gently around your wrist before you can hide from her completely. her fingers warm against your cool skin.
“no,” she says softly.
you lower your hand from your face slowly as baran’s thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist absentmindedly.
“was this a terrible idea?” you ask quietly, scared of what she might answer.
“yes.”
you wanted to jump out of your skin. but then she adds.
“i’m still going to do it again.”
the heat that snapped back through hour body was unholy, baran’s legs now captured yours in a possessive way.
there was no way out now. you were hers.
“again?” you laugh in disbelief.
“you asked.”
“i absolutely did not ask that.”
“you wanted the answer.”
she wasn’t wrong. you looked down at your lap aware of everything that just happened all over again. the fact her lips were all over you not even ten minutes ago and you wanted it again.
baran notices your hesitation. “what?”
“i think this is where i’m supposed to realize i’m making terrible life choices.”
“and are you?”
you look at her, at the way her hair is now slightly messy from your fingers running through them, at her smudged lipstick, at the way she was desperately waiting for your answer to not break her heart.
“probably not,” you smirk.
her face softens into a smile, her fingers sliding from your wrist to your forearm. almost as if she got used to touching you.
“you wanna know what the worst part is?” you murmur.
“what.”
“i was nervous you wouldn’t ask me back.”
baran goes still beside you, then her eyes lift to yours. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left.”
“really?”
“you know that.”
“i actually don’t.”
her fingers squeezed your forearm in fake annoyance. then she laughs.
“i asked you back the second i knew i could.”
you both stayed silent for a while after that. her hand still rubbing against your arm making your eyes drift shut for a second.
“you falling asleep?” baran whispered.
“maybe.” you hummed, turning around and shoving your face into her neck.
“that’s rude.”
you smiled against her.
“i earned it.”
you felt a laugh vibrate through her throat, feeling it more than hearing it, making something in your stomach jump at the intimacy. you tilted your head slightly to look up at her.
the soft lighting of her house softened her face, made her look less untouchable.
“are you gonna kick me out?”
baran looked at you in disbelief, she wasn’t sure if you were joking or dead serious.
“of course not, baby.”
you looked back down before she could see the blush across your face. her arm pulling you a little closer to her as you both drifted off to sleep on her couch.
