Reckless Driving 4
RD1 ---- RD2 ---- RD3
MDNI!
Toxic yuri returns once more. Again, they deserve each other in the scariest way. Alpha Trin, Omega Baran, etc etc, Baran you scare me, Trinity you scare me. Now kiss.
TW: Violence, descriptions of violence, light sh (Arm scratching), some concerning behavior from both parties that seems to just turn them on more. Somebody call the army and put them in quarantine with each other so the rest of us are safe.
Gracefulness was a learned trait that morning Trinity had absolutely no interest in possessing.
It was much easier to stand at the window in her apartment, steam curling up into her face from her mug of Baran’s tea, staring without really looking at anything beyond the glass.
Behind her the apartment held fast to its pocket of warmth from an early winter morning. The refrigerator hummed and ice shifted deep within its ancient bowels. The heat clicked on and settled into a soft drone. Beneath it all were Dennis’s muffled snores from the other side of his shut door and the stillness of her own sleeping bedroom.
Her gaze wandered from the slate greys of the dusting of snow atop the roofs and pavement of the city to the hallway, shadowed and vacant of life. Baran should almost certainly still be asleep, cocooned by the warmth of Trinity’s weighted comforter despite insisting she didn’t get cold easily. The memory alone tugged a corner of Trinity’s lips up before she inevitably burned them around the rim of her too-hot tea mug.
Hissing sharply she nearly fumbled the mug. Her right hand hadn’t really come back from that night in the parking lot. She could force it into submission at work, enough to convince patients she didn’t have Parkison’s in her digits, but Trinity was driving with her left hand, brushing teeth and combing hair and trying to figure out how to hold a fork with her non-dominant hand otherwise. The years of sending her knuckles through walls and into tree bark and punching bags and bastard’s faces had finally reaped her consequences.
One trembling useless hand lowered the jittery mug to the windowsill, Trinity shakily scrubbed the searing flecks of tea onto the front of her hoodie and sighed, squinting at the discoloration dotting the skin where the liquid had burned her. Not too bad, not even enough for an ice pack before work. Sometimes Trinity had to remind herself the scars slicing silvery thread over her knuckles were there when she went to sleep too, not some overnight upcropping of allergen.
Sighing heavily, she abandoned the tea and padded lightly over to the fridge, dodging the squeaky boards. Although Trinity’s appetite and eating habits had matured since Baran planted herself in her life, her fridge remained woefully barren a good portion of the time. The trials of two ravenous twenty-somethings warring over produce.
But there were eggs and orange juice used for cocktails, and there was a semi-stale loaf of bread in the pantry for toast. She flicked the burner on the stove on, and scratched her chin as she eyed the eggs.
A chin hooked over her shoulder and she huffed a groan.
“Woman, go back to sleep.” She shook her head and quirked an eyebrow at the hands snaking around her front.
“Mm-mm.” Baran inhaled Trinity’s hoodie scent with a pleased sound.
“So eloquent. I love that about you.”
“Mhm.”
“Jesus, baby, really. I’ll come give you a kiss before I go, I promise, just get back in bed.”
The fingers curled in a spurt of possessive energy as Baran nosed up the side of her throat, pressing pecks along the way. “How about now instead?” She rasped.
“Incorrigble. Your behavior is unacceptably inappropriate, Dr. Al-Hashimi, I’m shocked and disappointed to say the least—” but her tangent was quickly cut off by laughter as frigid fingers slipped under her clothing and she writhed to get away.
The kisses found her shoulder through the fabric, then a hand on her forehead pulled her head back to tip into Baran’s own shoulder so Baran could smother her with affection.
“Bed?” But the plea had changed its meaning.
“Nope. You need to eat and then leave. Punctuality is sexy.”
And unto the world Baran’s word was law and so eat and leave was what Trinity did. After maybe just a few more kisses.
The fluorescent’s insistent dull buzzing was driving Trinity insane to the fullest extent. Whatever momentary peace she’d basked in before work was being drained out of her like she was strapped to a gurney getting her blood drawn endlessly.
Langdon corrected her chart from over her shoulder at eight am. Robby flicked a plastic glove at her head. Everybody else was getting all the good cases. Fine. That was fine. She could let a day pass in triage, she was an adult and Trinity wouldn’t implode simply because she wasn’t getting her way. Maybe it took a heavy breathing and clawing at her arms session in the bathroom whilst picture wreaking bloody revenge on Langdon in an alleyway, but Trinity regulated herself and shut off the testosterone in favor of her patients.
Monitors alerted even the most miniscule shifts to whomever they were attached, the gurney wheels rattled, the elevator dinged, and the fucking fluorescents droned on above her, and Trinity braced against the momentary discomfort with bitterness as armor. She needed a trauma to distract her, and luckily enough, Yolanda was near enough to bark out a “Santos!” and take her by the elbow to a bay.
“Thirty nine year old female, mauled by domestic canine. Significant blood loss on scene— we applied tourniquet to left upper extremity upon arrival. GCS fifteen, alert and oriented, answering questions. Tachycardic, two large bore IVs have been established, five hundred milliliters blood en route.” Princess repeated upon Yolanda slamming through the doors. Robby stood off to the side, squinting at the mangled carcass with his hands rubbing over the nape of his neck.
“Santos, get her talking.” He ordered, making a move things along gesture.
“Think the mo… the morphine’s kickin.” The woman gurgled as she narrowed her eyes against the bright overheads.
Santos attempted to get some more out of her, her name, her work, the current political cabinet, the year. But each response was sinking the poison of discomfort into her bloodstream. Hands working tirelessly over strips of fabric peeled from gruesome sections, orders flying like bullets around the two of them.
“Doctor–” The woman managed through gritted teeth, a slick bloody hand closing over Trinity’s.
“She— She’s not a bad dog. Can you—” She cut off with a groan of pain before forcing the rest out. “I need someone to make sure they don’t— hur–hurt her.”
“I understand, Marisol, we’ll look into that when we get the chance, but right now you are our primary concern.” Robby interjected.
“Doctor Santos, please. She was scared, she was cornered, I made— I—” Marisol lost her breath trying to spit out her demands, eyes rolling back. Trinity felt her own stomach drop, coated in layers of dripping blood, staring at some strange impersonation of whatever the woman used to look like.
Marisol fought back into her own body. “She’s a good dog. She’s a good dog, I love her.”
And the exertion promptly flatlined her just moments later.
Compressions fell to Trinity as Garcia shot rapid fire instructions to every resident and nurse crowding the bed. Trinity felt the ribs crackle under her pressure, all she could do was clench her eyes shut as a bead of sweat trailed over her eyebrow and her arms burned.
She counted them off. Garcia’s hand shoved her backward firmly when she lost track.
Trinity’s wide glossy eyes stayed locked onto the woman in front of her as nurse Kim took over for her. At the first opportunity, at Kim’s first exhausted hesitation, Trinity all but pounced back to her chest with desperate fervor, heart slamming through her own ribcage like it was attempting to beat for the both of them.
She reached thirty, Garcia fisted a hand in her white surgical gown and tugged her back before she could keep going. The room froze in horrific limbo as all eyes turned to the monitor.
The flatline broke into pathetic start up pulses as Marisol’s heart writhed back to life in her chest.
Minutes later the gurney was shuttled briskly from the room for an OR operating room and Trinity barely even registered her back hitting the wall and the ensuing exhale as she knocked the breath from her own aching lungs.
Puncture wounds, lacerations, avulsions, the woman’s face— it all flickered graphically before her eyelids anytime she attempted to close them. Her breaths came short and raspy, her usually steady hands lost their stamina and trembled as her nails bit into her forearms over and over.
The dog was visible in Trinity’s mind's eye.
Someone’d mentioned it was a golden retriever, commonly dopey goofy loyal things, a family dog, a Hollywood poster dog. She bet that its amber soft waves of fur were splattered with Marisol’s blood, she bet its happy lolling tongue was licking over a snout layered with scarlet.
She believed Marisol, deep down, which was the worst of it.
Maybe it had eaten something from a counter, maybe it’d pissed on a plant in the house, maybe Marisol brandished the wrapper and sharply ordered it to its cage or bed or whatever. Marisol probably forgot she had multiple feet on the poor beast, and the poor beast probably forgot Marisol meant no harm.
Hands wracked with tremors, her bad hand smarting awfully, Trinity disappeared into the breakroom, shoulders hunched as she pressed into the counter as though she was only in there for some shitty stale Folger’s.
An EMT she knew by the name of Miguel had his arms crossed over his uniform as he detailed the scene to a med-student and Dana’s harem of nurses. The dog had been licking at Marisol’s face, whimpering loudly, lying beside her still body upon the kitchen floor, big sad eyes pleading with Miguel as he and his coworkers stormed the house.
So Trinity scrubbed a sterile hand over her mouth and let loose a shuddering sigh.
She knew exactly what was bothering her.
She saw the wine streaking down the wall from the shattered glass and then she saw the blood on Marisol’s body. Trinity squeezed her eyes closed and shivered out a low groan, and she saw her own knuckles crushing through the wall and into the tree bark and the crimson attached to the wounds. Her heart thudded and her blood pressure pounded in her ears.
The man in the parking lot choking on the bile and blood in his throat as she paced over his drenched body with two murderous clenched fists.
A fight between her and Baran over a month ago, some stubborn snapping on Trinity’s part, some slight condescension on Baran’s. Burning shame welled in Trinity’s eyes at the thought.
She didn’t even remember what Baran had said. She only remembered the look.
Trinity had flung a cabinet door closed and whirled on Baran, one half step forward, rage contorting her features. Then dropping entirely into a blank countenance at Baran’s flinch.
Just a few hours ago Trinity had been digging her nails into her arms and raking them down to lose herself in the burn, thoughts of her broken right fist flailing into Langdon’s smug face.
The violence inside her was bone deep.
The story of Baran’s own dog from childhood.
That massive fuck had gotten it together, but after 28 years of living, Trinity was beginning to believe she never would.
Thick like rot in her nervous system came the hollowing truth:
Perhaps one day it would be Baran and not Marisol on that steel table.
It became clear what Trinity’s duty to her lover was.
“It’s not good?”
Baran rested her fork against her own plate, inquisitive all-seeing eyes skating across Trinity’s still face with one quirked eyebrow, before pointedly darting down to Trinity’s untouched portion of pesto salmon. In truth, she knew it was perfect, as well as a favorite of her girl’s.
Trinity followed suit and wearily let her fork fall to her plate, eyes locked onto the grain of the wooden table she’d once mercilessly fucked Baran on.
Her soul gave an agonizing clench, which Trinity took to mean it was now or never. Now or the gurney.
Cowardice won anyways for the time being.
“Very good. Super tired, work was a lot.” She muttered after a pregnant silence, nearly wincing at how disingenuous it sounded.
Baran elegantly lifted another forkful to her lips and watched Trinity blankly as she chewed, completely unsatisfied. It was killing Trinity how flawless she looked. Baran had done her hair and makeup, worn Trinity’s favorite perfume of hers, gotten fresh ingredients from the market and cooked a perfect three course dinner. It was searingly painful, all the way down to the smooth white blouse Baran favored with three buttons undone.
Through all the venom seeping into every pore, Trinity raised her eyes to her lover to implant their final memories into her mind, even if the image would be blurred with tears.
“Trinity? Talk to me, my love.”
Her soul soured at the very word. What a cruel beast she was to allow this woman to dote on her for quite so long, knowing that Baran deserved so much better. Trinity flinched at the thought of Baran finding someone later on, as she undoubtedly would when Trinity left her.
It was ruinous. Maybe Trinity would have to begin a life of crime and snap the neck of any fucker unfortunate enough to take Baran on the dated Trinity never would again. It was quite an appealing idea, all of a sudden.
A hand went to cover hers with tender warmth and Trinity gasped and tore her own hand away as though a knife had sunk into the table between her fingers instead of the clutch of her love.
Marisol had held her hand, too. Moments before her body gave out. Garcia still hadn’t texted with news on the resolution of the case. Not a commonly good sign.
“Trinity.” Baran’s eyebrows raised, confusion flickering over her face.
Trinity stood abruptly, her chair legs snarling horribly into the wood floor. Somewhere outside the perpetually open windows, an owl hooted and the city carried on with its nightly sleepless rituals.
She took one staggering step back, another. Eyes unblinkingly latched to the closest thing to God Trinity knew. Chest heaving under her clean dress shirt.
Baran had kissed her cheek with a devilish smile and said “Change into the one I like.” when she met Trinity at the door. Autopilot had buttoned up a blue dress shirt with a white collar and slid her best rings onto her shaky fingers and done up the belt over her nicest black slacks. The finishing touch was the formal tie fastened around her throat. It all felt like a sinister farce on her part now.
Her posture was rigid, shoulders bunched up around her neck, Trinity’s bad hand curled unnaturally into a sore, uncertain half-fist.
She wanted the night breeze to soothe over her flushed cheeks as she sprinted down the sidewalk into the shadows and away from this apartment forevermore.
Baran turned back to her dinner only to calmly dab a napkin at her lips before joining Trinity on her feet, ignoring the way Trinity stumbled further backwards.
“Baran. I’m… I’m…” The English language evacuated Trinity’s stores of knowledge all at once as she desperately fumbled for the words.
“I have to go, Baran.”
“Is that so?” Baran tilted her head and surveyed the panic seizing Trinity before her.
“I’m— I’m serious. I’m serious.”
Baran let her eyes slip from Trinity to the front door for only half a beat, unreadable expression back to Trinity before she could make a run for it.
“Baran, I’m fucked up. There— fuck there was this woman— Marisol—” Baran’s gaze sharpened like Trinity had reached across the divide and slapped her, Trinity rushing to amend her wording, “Not— no no— at work. At work, a patient.”
The petrifying icy gaze did not thaw.
“Today. She— she got attacked by— by her dog.” Trinity was hyperventilating and she knew she must look pathetic. Some alpha. “Baran she— it was— it was so bad— I— I—”
Baran’s arms were gently reaching for her in an instant, sending Trinity catapulting backwards until she nearly tripped over the barstool at the kitchen island.
“Don’t come closer.” She choked out. Baran’s arms dropped.
“Her dog. Some— it was— her— her dog.” Get it fucking together you fucking wretched dog. You miserable, pitiful excuse for a lover.
“I won’t hurt you, Baran.” Trinity swallowed thickly, trying to force some frigid detachment back into her tone. “I can’t let you get hurt, not for anything or anyone, not for me. I’m worse than that dog, we both know it.”
Silence. Then,
“Stop.”
“Do you think I’m scared of you, Trinity?”
“I think the problem is that you aren’t.”
“What exactly about you should be so scary to me?”
“We— we both have seen me lose control. And what that looks like for the people around me.” “And I’m just like the rest of them to you?”
“What— no, what are you— I didn’t say that.”
“You think I can’t handle your emotions, Trinity?”
“Baran, enough. This is not an argument, this is me telling you that—”
“That what, Trinity? That what? You’re going to hurt me, is that it?” Baran took a few steps into Trinity’s orbit until the frantic woman was faltering to get away. “Are you saying you think that because you had a bar fight a few months ago and because you can be impulsive that you’re leaving me?”
“Fuck— stop— stop moving. Don’t fucking come any closer, I mean it.”
“Give me a real reason. Why should I be scared of you, really?”
“I did tell you. I told you this isn’t a discussion, Baran, that I’m doing this so we— so I don’t—” “So you don’t what, Trinity? Do you honestly believe that if you ever put your hands on me I wouldn’t be able to defend myself? You think I should be scared of you? I think you’re delusional, Trinity, if you truly believe you stand a chance.”
“What the fuck are you saying?”
Baran swiftly closed the gap, one sharp hand shooting to grip Trinity’s jaw as her back slammed into the wall rattling the picture frames along it off to the side.
“Let’s put this to bed right here, shall we?” Baran’s velvety voice spelled only immense danger.
“If you think I should be scared of you, show me why. Help me understand, Trinity, because otherwise I will never, never let you go.” She growled. “You have my permission, eshgham. You get the first shot.”
Trinity spluttered, braced against the wall, terror overriding her better logic.
Baran wanted to lick that look off of her face and consume it entirely forever. Her special girl, desperate to be good, sacrificing herself in a ridiculous display of unnecessary valor. Oh, Baran would rectify this in record time.
“I’m not— I won’t—” “Are you scared you’ll lose control and hurt me? That’s why you’re refusing my dinner and trying to flee out of your own front door? That’s why you insult my competence?”
“Baran—”
Her fingers dug into the full cheeks and her eyes flared with intent.
“I’m not scared of you, Trinity. You’re no killer.”
With that, Baran’s free hand tugged Trinity’s up to her own throat, closing the cold trembling digits around her flesh.
“Squeeze, baby. Show me what I should be so afraid of. Fucking try it.”
Tears slipped freely down Trinity’s cheeks as she uttered a low sob, unable to move her burning bad fingers. “Don’t wanna.” She croaked.
“You don’t want to.” Baran repeated.
“M’ sorry. I’m sorry, Baran, I’m…” More sounds tried to recreate words but only dissolved into hiccups and tears.
And the ever gracious lover wrapped her warm arms tightly around Trinity and Trinity buried her head in Baran’s shoulders and got her blouse all wet until she’d cried every last tear out of her body.
That night, Baran had loosened Trinity’s tie and gingerly unbuttoned her shirt and pants, slipping her belt from the loops with careful reverence. She’d helped Trinity into one of her sweaters and Trinity fell asleep with her nose pressed into Baran’s scent at her throat, dried tears streaked down cooling cheeks, so wiped out she hadn’t moved once all night from where Baran cradled her special girl.
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, more, God fuck me harder, yes—”
Trinity’s thrusts were downright cruel, pistoning with great intensity into Baran repeatedly as her head tipped back in the throes of pleasure. Sweat glittered at her hairline, beaded at her neck and trailed down her spinal cord, but she kept at it like stopping would kill her. Words soon failed Baran entirely and she was limited to a short series of ragged animalistic groaning.
Everytime Trinity fucked her lover, she was dragged just a little further down into the abyss of no return. For her cock to be milked relentlessly by soaking wet heat was one thing, the worship returned to her by Baran was another. They couldn’t pull off of each other, tangled ceaselessly in sweating steamy rutting sex that made Baran wince when she took a seat for days after, that made Trinity completely exhausted and spent because all of her attention and energy was devoured by Baran.
They were addicted to each other, for lack of a better term. And addiction was proving to be exactly the clinical description of what was happening to Trinity.
She lived and breathed between Baran’s legs.
In the morning she delicately prized Baran’s panties from her thighs and suckled into her warmth for breakfast. During her work day, (Her work day for godsakes!) Trinity ducked into a bathroom on the floor just above them because it was usually far less populated and had to work off the excess with her left hand for lunch. And for dinner she kicked Dennis out so they could copulate on the sofa, standing up and bent over the kitchen counters, the shower, the bed, the hallway walls when they couldn’t make it the next few steps. Victoria had once bought Trinity a large tub of 100 condoms as a gag gift after she left them at a bar to take some beta apart in a bathroom.
Now she had to stick half her arm in the tub to reach them, her supply was rapidly dwindling.
Baran was similarly obsessed. The faces, the noises her special girl made that she had learned and catalogued and filed just right she could see them when she closed her eyes— well she worked through the aching that was abusing her full cunt to earn them time after time. She even began to sense withdrawal from the soreness itself, a day where she was walking straight was a day she had a mission to reverse that.
It helped that Trinity was bent on her pleasure first and foremost, the same Baran was back to her. The woman basically latched herself onto Baran’s clit like it was a full meal, but it gave Baran plenty of advantage.
If Trinity snapped at a coworker at work? Abrasive to a patient? Withholding her body from Trinity’s oral fixation would clear up the issue in less than 24 hours usually.
If Trinity offered insight that proved to be a life saver, if she made Baran dinner, if she knelt at her altar with those wide pleading puppy dog eyes? Baran’s fingers would thread through her hair and let her take what she needed.
There was nothing like head from Trinity, simply put. An ‘eater’ through and through as Trinity would say. Whereas once Baran might’ve balked at the very thought, she now doesn’t have to hesitate before letting Trinity drop to her knees in a bathroom stall.
So she grinds back into Trinity with a broken sound erupting from her lips.
The evening had gotten away from them. Simple chinese takeout eaten on the floor in front of the couch, curled against each other's sides shaking their heads in tandem at the useless characters in the slasher movie Trinity had put on. They never got to watch horror movies unless Kaveh was at his dad’s which was only three weekends out of the month.
Baran had intended to rock her babygirl back to sleep in her arms that night, but Trinity had gotten handsy while massaging Baran’s lotion into her legs and it was impossible to tear themselves off of each other moments later.
Baran had hungrily swallowed every drop of cum she could suckle from Trinity’s tip before so much as hooking a leg over her. Tongue gliding, fingers working, clenching, massaging, soothing, jerking. Lips pillowing gently, then taking Trinity whole and gagging over her with desire spurring her forward into oblivion.
Trinity’s rhythm was perfect and Baran was dying a slow pleasurable death arched back into her thrusts. Two hands were clutched into her hips tugging her back into each wet slap of intrusion.
Trinity’s head was thrown back as raspy moans followed every exhale, Baran’s own moans chopped off by each punctuating pounding of Trinity’s cock.
With a tremoring groan they seized up as one, Baran up to her knees with Trinity wrapped around her from behind, fucking up into her with great sincerity.
Baran felt it before Trinity did. It was completely unmistakable.
Trinity came with a heavy moan, one hand gripped against Baran’s breast, the other still clenching her hip. Warmth exploded in Baran’s gut like fireworks, and even through the onslaught of her own staggering orgasm, Baran knew.
She felt the seed pump hot strands into her, lips parted around the shock, eyebrows pressed together, orgasm still rocking through her.
Her lover panted into her shoulder from behind, letting Baran go limp in her arms as she held the both of them upright, cock still twitching and spasming seconds into Baran without a clue in the world.
Still encased inside of Baran, they fell back into the mattress together.
Baran guided Trinity out of her and both gazes dropped to the meager remains of the condom.
Trinity froze, jaw dropping slightly as seed dripped down Baran’s inner thighs and painted the tip of her exposed throbbing cock.
“Fuck.”
