Warning ⚠️: some mature topics, inaccurate medical details, blood and many more.
Author Note: I started to watch 9-1-1 Nashville so I decided to write some one shot fanfiction about him. I think I will only write about him.
I have some outer banks fanfiction that I wrote but I never posted I think I will about Rafe Cameron but I am focusing on showing some love to Ryan Hart.
The call came in at 14:32 — “multiple officers down, shots fired.”
The 113 rolled out in record time, sirens cutting through the thick Tennessee heat. Ryan Hart was behind the wheel, jaw clenched, heart pounding in his ears. He’d been on dozens of calls like this, but something about this one felt wrong — the tone of the dispatcher’s voice, the address on the GPS… the same street where Y/N’s unit was supposed to be serving a warrant.
Detective Y/N L/N. His best friend since childhood. The one who’d patched his scraped knees, who’d cried on his shoulder at prom when he danced with another girl. The one who stood by him through his marriage to Samantha… and through the wreckage that followed.
When they arrived, chaos ruled the scene. Smoke. Screams. Gunfire echoing through the narrow alleyway.
“Move! Officer down!” someone shouted.
Ryan turned — and his world froze. Detective Reyes was carrying a limp body, blood soaking her shirt. Y/N.
“God, no—” Ryan sprinted forward, dropping to his knees beside the EMTs as they tried to stop the bleeding. “Y/N, hey! Look at me, you’re okay. You hear me?”
She didn’t respond. Her hand slipped from his grasp as they loaded her onto the stretcher. He climbed into the rig beside her before anyone could stop him.
---
At Nashville General Hospital
The waiting room was a storm of uniforms — firefighters, detectives, paramedics — all waiting, all silent. Hours blurred together. Ryan sat hunched over, blood still on his hands, staring at the tiled floor.
Blythe Hart arrived first, her face pale. She touched Ryan’s shoulder gently. “She’s strong, sweetheart. If anyone can pull through this, it’s Y/N.”
Don stood nearby, watching his son with the quiet understanding only a father could have. Finally, he sat beside him.
“You love her,” Don said simply.
Ryan looked up, eyes red. “Yeah. I think I always have. I was just too damn stupid to see it.”
Don nodded. “Then don’t waste another second when she wakes up.”
---
After nearly five hours, the surgeon came out.
“She made it,” he said. “Lost a lot of blood. She crashed once, but we got her back. She’s in an induced coma for now.”
Ryan let out a shaky breath — a sound caught between a laugh and a sob. The room exhaled with him.
---
That night, the hospital lights dimmed, and Ryan sat by her bedside, holding her hand. Machines beeped steadily. Her face was pale, but peaceful.
“Hey, partner,” he whispered. “You scared the hell out of me today.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his thumb tracing her bandaged knuckles.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, voice cracking. “About us. About what I want. I want you, Y/N. Always have. I just… I didn’t get it until now. I thought forever was supposed to be Samantha — turns out, it’s been you all along.”
He smiled through tears. “When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you everything properly. I want a house, maybe kids, a life that looks like Mom and Dad’s. You deserve that. We both do.”
From the doorway, Blythe leaned against Don, tears in her eyes. “He finally got there,” she whispered.
Ryan squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “You hear me, sweetheart? We’re gonna have that life. I promise.”
For a moment, nothing. Then — the faintest pressure. Her fingers curled weakly around his.
Ryan froze, heart in his throat. “Y/N?”
She didn’t wake, but the message was clear. She heard him.
And for the first time since the call came in, Ryan allowed himself to hope.
Paring: Don Hart x agegap!Reader + Ryan Hart x Crush!Reader
Summary: y/n Ryder is a paramedic for the 113. She's young and smart and finds herself stuck in an unexpected love triangle between her best friend and his father. Ryan Hart has been chasing her for months, hoping she loves him just as much as he does her. To his dismay she may have eyes for another - the captain.
Warnings: smut, reader is mentioned of be 35 later on(Don is 50), Blythe and Donnie are divorced, public sex, desk sex, unprotected sex, pull out methoded, fingering, covering her mouth, age gap.
❤️🔥MasterList ML2 ❤️🔥table of Contents
(not my gif)
The 113 cheered from the stands, the smell of dirt and horses blending with the scent of roasted corn and dust from the rodeo arena. Donnie and Ryan were out in the pen, adjusting saddles and giving last-minute instructions to their horses as the wind blew sharply.
Donnie’s cowboy hat caught the breeze and lifted, sailing toward the stands. Without thinking, y/n lunged, catching it midair. “Got it” she called, holding it out.
He smiled, walking up and carefully taking the hat from her. “Hang on to it” he said, placing it on her head of curls. His voice was low, calm, but carrying an undertone that made her stomach flip. He stepped closer and adjusted it on her head, the brim brushing slightly against her forehead, their eyes met, heavy with unspoken tension. He lingered there a moment, just close enough for her to feel it as he straightened it.
Y/n felt heat creep up her neck and cheeks as she nodded, her hands clutching the brim, almost afraid to move.
From behind, Ryan called out more sharper than he ment too. “Dad! You comin'? We gotta line up in two minutes”
Donnie's jaw tightened, not wanting to leave. He turned back to her and she smirked. “Good luck, Captain”
“Keep it warm for me” he murmured, lips curving into that easy grin of his. His thumb brushed the brim one last time before he turned back to the pen, whistling to Ryan like nothing happened.
Y/n stood frozen, the scent of leather and sage clinging to the hat now. Her pulse was loud in her ears as she returned to her seat next to Blue. The rodeo announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, calling out the first event. Donnie and Ryan lined up with their horses, ready to start. What made Ryan's jealousy boil even more was Donnie looking over his shoulder and catching her eye one last time before turning back and focusing on the task at hand.
Blue nudged her. “Cowboy hat rule” he said, grinning like an idiot as he nodded toward Donnie.
She raised an eyebrow, debating whether or not she wanted to get herself into this. “and what is that?”
“Any cowboy who puts his hat on a girl’s head is staking a claim” Blue teased, nudging her again.
Y/n shook her head, focusing back on Ryan and Donnie. “that's not a real thing”
“It absolutely is!” Blue insisted, not letting it go. He leaned back, smirking knowingly. “and Ryan's definitely sour about it” His nod went toward his brother, who was clumsily trying to impress y/n from across the arena, clearly forgetting the horse he was supposed to be guiding.
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The farmhouse was warm with string lights and country music drifting out over the fields. Laughter from the 113 spilled across the porch where Blythe was setting out drinks like she’d hosted this crew a hundred times before. Y/n had slipped away. The stables were quieter. Dim yellow bulbs hung from the rafters, casting soft halos of light over the stalls. The air smelled like hay and leather and clean earth. It felt steadier in here - simpler.
One of the horses shifted when she approached. Big. Dark-coated. He sniffed her outstretched hand, nostrils flaring. “Hey there, sweet boy,” she said softly, letting her fingers brush against his velvety muzzle. “You were such a good boy out there tonight”
The horse leaned into her touch, warm and heavy. “That's Duke” a voice said from the shadows, low and familiar.
Donnie stepped into the light, hat in hand, shirt still smelling faintly of dust and rodeo smoke. He didn’t move closer, just leaned against the stall door, watching her with that quiet intensity that made her pulse stutter.
“Duke,” she repeated softly, glancing up at him before looking back at the horse. “You're a very handsome boy, Duke”
The horse snorted, as if acknowledging his own magnificence, and nudged Y/n’s palm for more attention. The gesture made Donnie smile faintly, though his eyes stayed fixed on her - the way the dim light caught her profile, the gentle curve of her neck as she leaned into the horse’s nudge.
Donnie pushed off the door, stepping closer. Close enough that his shadow fell over her in the dim light, close enough she could smell the whiskey on his breath and the leather on his boots. He rested a forearm on the stall gate beside her. “Pet him here,” His fingers shifted her hand up toward the center of Duke’s forehead. “That’s his spot”
His body was close enough now that she could feel the heat coming off him. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. His hand still rested over hers, adjusting her fingers with maddening slowness. Duke immediately leaned into the touch.
Donnie’s breath hitched slightly, his gaze dropping to their hands where they touched on the horse’s forehead. “See that?” he murmured lowly, his voice almost gravelly. “He loves it”
his gaze fixed on the horse’s forehead, where her fingers now rested. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a slow, idle touch that seemed to hold more significance than it should. Y/n turned her head a fraction. They were so close - her nose nearly brushed his jaw. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but she could still see them - darker here, intent. Focused entirely on her. Not playful like earlier. Not distant like at the arena. Something steadier. Heavier.
“You do this a lot?” she asked quietly, though her voice wasn’t nearly as steady as she wanted it to be.
Donnie’s eyes flicked to hers, surprise flitting across his face before it settled back into that steady gaze. He was quiet for a moment, his thumb still idly brushing her knuckles. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice low and even, almost thoughtful.
“Guide... Be a captain on and off the field”
His jaw tightened slightly, something flickering in those dark eyes - pride, maybe, or the weight of expectation. “Every damn day,” he said, voice rough with the truth of it. His thumb stilled on her knuckles, pressure lingering. “Horses, firefighters, whatever needs leading”
Her pulse ticked in her throat.
Duke shifted again, breaking the moment slightly. Donnie’s hand slid away from hers - slow enough that she felt the absence of it. She turned her head just enough that if either of them moved forward - if she moved with him even slightly they’d be too close to ignore it. His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth before lifting again. There's a beat of silence. Then another.
Then - “Well, well”
Ryan’s voice cut through the moment like a snapped rope. Y/n stepped forward instinctively, Donnie shoved his hands in his pockets as Ryan approached with that easy grin.
“See you've met Duke” Ryan said, resting his forearms on the stall door.
“Yep,” Donnie answered shortly, his gaze flicking between Ryan and Y/n. His son didn't seem to notice the tension lingering in the air, thankfully. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Ryan was never one to back down from a challenge. “She was asking about him”
Ryan looked between them - something flickering in his expression before he covered it with charm. “Oh? So my award winning rodeo skills inspire you to take a ride yourself?” He winked.
She raised an eyebrow playfully, crossing her arms. “Award winning, huh?”
Donnie’s expression darkened slightly at Ryan’s flirtatious tone. He shifted his weight, hands still tucked in his pockets but fingers curling into fists. Ryan just grinned wider, ignoring the way his father's jaw ticked. “I could teach you”
Y/n didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know,” she said playfully. “You looked pretty busy trying not to fall off”
Ryan clutched his chest. “Wow. That’s cold”
“I’m kidding,” she smiled quickly - because that’s who she was. Gentle. Nice. Always softening the edges.
Donnie watched the easy banter between them, something tight coiling in his gut. He shouldn't care. She wasn't his. He had no right. But the way Ryan smiled at her - even playful, even gentle made his teeth ache.
“Come on, live a little”
“That’s sweet,” she said. “But, maybe next time. We got a busy week ahead”
“That we do” Ryan sighs, his grin softening into a more genuine smile. He couldn’t help but notice how Y/n’s answer had deflected any potential flirtation, keeping things friendly and casual. Donnie’s hand slowly uncurled in his pocket as the tension eased slightly.
“So I should probably get home” she continued.
“I’ll walk you out” Donnie said, voice low and flat, already moving toward the barn door before she could protest. Ryan gave his father a soft glare, already turning back to fuss over Duke. Donnie held the door open, the late evening sun casting a long sunset across the yard. He fell into step beside her, not too close, not too far.
The walk to her car was quiet. The string lights from the party glowed softly behind them, laughter and music fading into the distance. Donnie kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders squared, but his steps matched hers - not leading, not lagging. Just present. When they reached her car, he stopped.
Y/n turned to face him, keys jingling in her hand. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unexpected. Donnie’s gaze flicked to her lips briefly before meeting her eyes again. His thumb hooked in his pocket, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against denim.
“Thanks for tonight, it was...” she paused, giving him a playful grin. “interesting”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Glad you enjoyed yourself,” he murmured, voice deeper than before. He stepped closer, not enough to invade her space but enough that the distance between them felt significant. Intimate, almost. “See you at the station, Y/n”
“see ya, Cap” y/n smiled.
He nodded once, that single gesture holding the weight of a dozen unsaid things. Then he stepped back, giving her space to unlock her car and slide inside. He waited until the headlights cast a sharp glare before turning back toward the barn. His expression was unreadable - jaw tight, eyes shadowed. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him like this.
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The following week had already dragged on - wishing it was Friday when it was only Tuesday type of week… Hell, what would it matter? They'd be hauling ass in that big ass red truck on a Saturday. The station was quiet that evening though, the kind of silence that only came after the last call had been cleared and the other crews had gone home. The lights had a gentle glow to them, casting warm shadows across the kitchen. Y/n was leaning against the counter, sipping a lukewarm coffee, absently going through the medical supply list for Roxie.
Donnie appeared from the hall, carrying a stack of reports. He paused when he saw her. Something about the way she leaned there - relaxed, effortless, and completely unaware of the effect she had on him. God, it made his chest tighten.
“You still awake?” she asked, glancing up. Her tone was casual, but her eyes were warm, and for some reason, it made him forget the words he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head.
“Yeah,” he said, setting the reports down. “Just finishing paperwork” His gaze lingered on her longer than necessary.
She tilted her head, catching the intensity in his eyes. “You should get some rest. It's been one hell of a day”
“I could say the same about you” he muttered. He stepped closer, his presence heavy, and before he knew it, he was standing just a little too close, the smell of his cologne, or maybe just him, making her heart thump faster than it should.
“Guess I'd have to listen. You're the captain after all” y/n smirked, refusing to move or pull back.
There was a strange, magnetic pull between them, an unspoken tension that had been building for weeks. Donnie’s hand hovered for a brief, impossible moment near hers, the papers on the counter a flimsy excuse for why they weren’t touching. “You make it look too easy,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost a growl. “All this… work, chaos… and you just glide through it”
She swallowed, her own pulse quickening. “Someone’s gotta keep up,” she said softly. “Can’t have the captain looking bad”
He chuckled, but it was strained. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Right… yeah”
For a heartbeat, time slowed. Donnie’s hand twitched toward her, almost grazing her wrist. She could feel the electricity, the closeness, the temptation. His restraint was palpable, but so was the desire behind it.
Then the quiet was broken by the distant clatter of a locker closing down the hall. Both of them jumped slightly. Donnie cleared his throat, stepping back, his hand dropping to his side as though it had never been lifted.
Y/n’s pulse was still racing, though she wore her calm mask. “You okay?” she asked, her voice deceptively casual.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a small, frustrated smile tugging at his lips. “Just… paperwork. Get some rest”
She nodded, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Y/n didn’t move away, didn’t break the tension entirely. There was a momentary, silent understanding between them - a mutual acknowledgment that the line had almost been crossed. And maybe, somewhere deep down, one was waiting for the other to cross it so the other didn't have too.
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Donnie pushed the doors of the station open, dragging his gear behind him, the faint smell of smoke and sweat clinging to his jacket. He tried to shrug off the aches and scrapes from the call, insisting he was fine, but y/n was already there, hovering like a hawk.
“You’re kidding me if you think you’re walking past me looking like that” she said, her voice calm but firm. She took a quick look at the faint cuts on his forehead and the redness around his knuckles as she twisted her hair into the flower claw clip she always used.
He just smiled weakly, trying to play off the pain as he set his gear down and began to peel off his jacket. The cool air of the station hit his sweat-drenched shirt, making him shiver slightly. “It’s just a few cuts”
“You’re not fine,” y/n said, grabbing his arm lightly to stop him. “You let me check you out. No arguments, Captain”
He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes meeting hers as he relented, holding up his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am” he teased, his voice barely above a whisper.
She followed him to his office. The room was dim, only the desk lamp casting a soft glow. He sank into his leather chair, letting her take her time. She moved close, flashlight in hand. “Follow the beam, Captain” she murmured, checking his pupils.
“I am”
Donnie leaned back, letting her work, his eyes tracking every movement. He could smell her perfume - something floral and soft - cutting through the lingering scent of smoke on his skin. His knuckles ached, but he wasn't about to mention it; not when her fingers were so gently tracing his jaw, checking for swelling.
“You really think I need this?” he asked, his voice low. But there was a catch in it, a tension in the way he leaned just slightly into her touch.
“Yes” y/n said simply, her tone firm, though her hand lingered a second longer on his jaw than necessary.
Donnie's gaze fell to her lips for a moment before snapping back up to her eyes. He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close she was, how alone they were in the dimly lit office. His heart rate picked up, but not from pain or exertion this time.
She cleaned his knuckles, and for a moment, her hand brushed his. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her closer, but his hands stayed on the arm rests of the chair, tight fists slowly relaxing. She noticed every flicker of desire, every tight muscle, every quiet tremor of his restraint. And after weeks of waiting, of catching stolen glances, of feeling that pull she couldn’t ignore - she finally let go. “Fuck it” she muttered under her breath.
Before he could respond, she leaned down, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt as she pressed her lips to his. Rough, heated, demanding. Donnie’s breath hitched like he'd been shocked, but his hands came up fast, one gripping the back of her neck, the other finding her waist and yanking her between his legs. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he kissed her back, all that restraint he'd been holding crumbling in seconds.
He broke the kiss just to breathe, forehead resting against hers. “Wait,” he panted against her lips, not pushing her away but holding her close. “Are you actually kissing me right now or am I delirious from concussion?” His thumbs brushed her hips, holding on like she might disappear.
Y/n chuckled softly. “Yes... But only because you wouldn't kiss me”
Donnie's brain shorted out at her words, and he captured her lips in a fierce kiss before she could say anything else. His hands moved to cup her face, tilt her head, deepen the kiss until they were both gasping. “I wanted to” he admitted, breaking the kiss to lift her up on his desk.
“You should of”
Donnie growled, his hands gripping her thighs as he spread her legs and stepped between them. He kissed her again, harder this time, punishing almost. His fingers dug into her skin as he pulled her flush against him. “I couldn’t” he panted between kisses.
He pressed his forehead to hers, both of them breathing hard, his hands trembling on her thighs. “I'm your captain” he whispered raggedly, like it was an excuse and a curse both. But he was still kissing her, still holding her like she was oxygen. She moaned softly against his lips, cupping the back of his head.
Y/n pulled back slightly, eyes dark. “then fuck me, Captain”
Something in Donnie snapped at her words, some last thread of control breaking. He kissed her again, aggressive and hungry, hands sliding up her thighs to her hips, pulling her against his hardness. He knew they shouldn't, knew someone could walk by any second, but god he wanted her.
His mouth found her neck, biting and sucking at the skin there while his hand reached up and tugged the claw clip, releasing her hair. He was rough, desperate, all the tension and wanting for months pouring out in one heated moment. His cock pressed against her through their clothes, demanding.
“Donnie” she shuddered against his lips, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
He let her work the buttons, his own hands sliding up her thighs and under her shirt, skin meeting skin. His name on her lips like that - husky and begging sent a jolt straight to his gut. He kissed her harder, needier. When she finally pushed his shirt open, her palms flattening against his heated chest, he groaned.
He broke the kiss long enough to yank her shirt off, tossing it aside. His hands went back to her waist, pushing her flat on her back on the desk harder than intended. His hands slid up her denim covered thighs to the waistband, yanking them down her thighs.
He rocked his hips against hers, making her moan. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep quiet. Donnie pulled back just enough to give himself clearance, one hand fumbling with his own belt while the other pushed her legs further apart. When she was spread before him, skin flushed under her sports bra - that's when he really looked at her.
His eyes raked over her - the curve of her breasts and stomach, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. He’d looked before, of course, but never like this. Never with permission. Never with the right to touch. He gave his belt one more sharp tug, the leather sliding free. Her breath hitched at the sight.
Donnie's hands curled around her hips, tugging her closer to the edge of the desk then slipped between her legs, fingers pressing through her panties. “Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“I want this” y/n whispered, reaching for him. “want you”
He groaned, pulling her panties to the side as his fingers slipped between her folds, finding her wet and ready. His thumb pressed against her clit and she arched up against his touch.
“You gotta be quiet” he breathed against her throat, biting down on the sensitive skin before straightening back up and towering over her.
One finger slid inside her, and her head fell back against his desk with a thud. Her mouth fell open and she quickly clamped her hand over it before any sounds were released. Her free hand gripped his wrist as his finger moved inside her.
Donnie added another finger, curling them inside her as his thumb continued to circle her clit. His other hand gripped her thigh, spreading her wider. He watched her face, saw the way her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw clenched as she fought to stay quiet. It was fucking sexy.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and rough. When she opened her eyes, glazed and desperate, he thrust his fingers deeper. “You're so fucking tight”
He pulled his fingers out with a wet sound. He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He leaned over her, one hand gripping the edge of the desk for balance while the other wrapped around her thigh, pulling it up higher around his hip.
“P-please” y/n whispered.
That pleading whimper almost made him come right then. He gripped himself, rubbing the head of his cock against her wetness, coating himself before pressing inside slowly. Her mouth fell open in a silent O as he filled her, and he had to bite his lip to stay quiet himself. She was so goddamn tight around him.
He started slow, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. His jaw was tight, forehead wrinkled as he focused on not being too rough, too loud. One hand gripped her hip while the other pressed flat on the desk beside her head. His breaths were ragged and quick.
Y/n was wrapped around him like a fucking vise. Donnie's jaw clenched tighter, his movements becoming more controlled as he tried to hold back. He was big - he knew that. And he was basically dry humping her on his desk. “F-faster... please” y/n whispered desperately.
“promise to stay quiet?” he asks, his voice strained from attempting to keep it together.
“N-no” she said breathlessly - honestly. There was no guarantee.
His hand on her hip tightened, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he picked up the pace. He thrust into her harder, deeper, the desk shaking slightly with each movement. His other hand moved to cover her mouth gently but firmly, silencing any sounds she might make.
Y/n’s eyes rolled back slightly as he started fucking her in earnest - rough, precise strokes that had her legs shaking. His cock hit that perfect spot inside her over and over, and the hand covering her mouth felt possessive, controlling. It made her hotter, wetter, clenching around him. “Shh, darlin'” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck.
She was a mess under him, body shaking, eyes half-closed, begging. Donnie removed his hand from her mouth, replacing it with his lips - kissing her deep and dirty while he fucked her through it. His free hand slid to grip the back of her neck, holding her in place against her protests. “Feel so good wrapped around me”
His hips snapped faster, more urgently. He could feel her getting tighter around him, her breaths turning into tiny gasps against his lips. The desk was shaking violently now, papers scattering to the floor. He broke the kiss to bite down on her shoulder, muffling a groan as he felt her orgasm building.
“I'm close” she whispered, her voice shaking as her hips arched off the desk.
“I know,” he growled against her skin, thrusting deeper, hitting that spot that made her see stars. His hand slid between them to rub her clit in rough circles, matching the rhythm of his cock. “Come for me. Try to stay quiet” He was close too - so close it hurt.
Her orgasm hit like a freight train - silent and violent. Her whole body clenched, back arching off the desk as she shook through it. She managed to stay quiet, but just barely, her mouth opening in a soundless scream against his shoulder. The hand in her hair tightened, holding her there while he kept fucking through her orgasm, drawing it out.
“D-donnie” y/n whispered against his ear.
“Shh, I got you,” he breathed, his own control snapping. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his own groan. His hips started to stutter. “want me to pull out?”
Y/n shuddered, brain too fuzzy. “I..umm” she stuttered.
“I’ll pull out...” His voice was strained. He was buried deep inside her, still hard and throbbing. He could feel her squeezing him tightly, like she didn't want him to leave. His hand moved to cover her mouth gently.
He kissed her hard once more before pulling out completely and coming on her stomach instead, biting down on his lip to keep quiet. He panted heavily above her, watching as his release coated her skin.
“Fuck...” He whispered, his forehead resting against hers. He slowly pulled back to look at her - flushed skin, messy hair, lips swollen from kissing. He gently wiped some of his release from her stomach with his thumb before leaning down to kiss her softly. “You okay?”
“I'm great,” y/n looked up at him with a shit eating grin. “thanks, Captain”
Donnie let out a breathy laugh, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip.
“Brat” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. He pressed a softer kiss to the corner of her mouth before straightening up reluctantly, tucking himself back into his jeans.
He grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on his desk and cleaned her stomach gently, his touch surprisingly tender after the rough sex. He tossed the tissues aside and then helped her sit up, pulling her panties back into place. His shirt was still open, revealing his chest.
Donnie picked up her jeans for her before buttoning his shirt back up but didn't bother with the collar, leaving it open casually. He watched as she fixed her own clothes, her hair messy around her shoulders. He reached out to gently smooth a strand behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her neck.
“You put me on night shift... I need to get to the bunks before they realize I'm in here”
“Right” Donnie said, nodding. He stepped closer, giving her a quick once-over to make sure she looked presentable. He knew she was right - if anyone found out she'd been in his office, there'd be hell to pay. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead before stepping back.
He walked her to the door, checking the hallway before opening it slightly. “Go left, take the back hall to the bunks. Should be clear,” His voice was low, back in captain mode. But his hand lingered on her waist for a second too long before he let her go. “See you at morning briefing”
She nodded and slipped out of the office, walking quickly and quietly down the left hallway. Donnie leaned against the closed door, running a hand through his hair. He could still smell her perfume lingering in the room, still feel her warm skin under his palms. What the hell did they just do?
