Hooked - Dr. Brendon โThe Sharkโ Park x Reader
Summary: After transferring to the Pitt in the middle of your fellowship, you manage to impress PTMC's meanest surgeon with your bubbly confidence, leading to you both catching feelings.
Tags/Notes: fluffy fluff, silly trope time, idiots in love, grumpy/sunshine, misunderstanding trope, kiss cam trope, getting together, cutesy feminine reader, kind of an airhead outside of medicine, also described as short sorry tall baddies, praise kink, oral (m), fingering (f), size kink, piv, riding/cowgirl, mini hitachi, doggy style, headlock during sex uwu, biting, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, creampie, D/s if you squint, aftercare
Content: medical (and hockey) inaccuracies out the wazoo, canon-typical
A/N: ย that mean doctor has bewitched me and i actually had so much fucking fun writing this fic
Word Count: 14.2k
While you finish preparing your patient presentation for the incoming orthopedic surgeon consult on the case youโve been working all day, Dennis Whitaker, whoโs been assisting you, groans under his breath as he catches an imposing figure approaching. โFuck, our consultโs the Shark.โ
โOf course it is.โ Shen, whoโs been in the corner half-supervising you since he completely trusts your work as a fellow, tells Whitaker, โThis kind of damage? He eats up cases like this. The Sharkโs never gonna let someone else-โ
You turn to both of them, hold up a hand to shut them up, and ask, โWho?โ
โDr. Brendon Park,โ Shen explains like heโs telling you about an upcoming horror movie. โHeโs the head orthopedic surgeon.โ
โHavenโt met him yet,โ you reply. Drawbacks of circumstances forcing you to change hospitals in the middle of your fellowship; you donโt know the whole team like you did back in your residency. With a final few glances through your dayโs meticulous work, you wrinkle your brows and check, โI thought Torres was head of orthopedic surgery.โ
โNo, sheโs the nice orthopedic surgeon. The Shark only deigns to come to what he calls โthe butcher shopโ for juicy cases.โ Shen shakes his head and says, โIโm gonna dip before he gets down here. Iโll grab Robby to supervise.โ
โYouโre leaving? Why?โ
โPark can actually stand Robby.โ Shen shrugs and tosses his gloves in the trash. โI made the mistake of suggesting an amputation when it was possible to salvage a limb and the Sharkโs always down my throat when we work together now.โ
โHow long ago was that?โ
โThree years.โ Shen pushes the door open and says before heading over to the hub to grab Robby, โThat thing youโve heard about sharks having three-second memories? Not accurate. PTMCโs Shark never forgets. Donโt fuck up your first impression.โ
Your wide eyes turn to Whitaker. โWell, that was comforting.โ
Jesse, whoโs been supporting you on and off when you needed more hands than just Whitakerโs, tries to offer, โParkโs not so bad.โ
โYeah, because youโre a nurse,โ Whitaker replies. โHe likes nurses. Respects them. Itโs other doctors he thinks are stupid.โ
You screw up your face with confidence and nod sharply. โThen I wonโt be stupid.โ
โGood luck with that,โ a deep, clear voice says behind you. You turn and nearly bump into the center of a very broad chest. Very broad. With matching biceps and traps threatening at the fabric of his blue scrubs. Heโs easily a whole head taller than you. And his face. Oh. Good face. Lots of masculine, rugged angles. Itโs not that the ED is lacking in arm candy, but most of the doctors down here arenโt soโฆbiteable. Youโre fighting not to ogle as his voice draws your eyes back up to his mouth. Which is a nice mouth. Under a nice nose. And a heavy brow with pretty blue eyes so sharp you feel a little light-headed under their intensity. โYouโre new.โ
Robby slips into the room behind him and hugs the wall, posture much straighter than youโve seen. He doesnโt look scared the way Whitaker does, but thereโs a clear expectation about what the interactionโs going to be: Efficient, intense, clear. Robby says bluntly, โNew fellow. Recent relocation.โ
Parkโs eyes narrow, taking in your pink shoelaces, perfectly applied makeup (including shimmery gloss) despite being elbows deep in the shift, and the pastel-heart-patterned long sleeve beneath your scrubs. โWe havenโt met.โ
You take one quick, deep breath and remind yourself thereโs no reason to be scared. You donโt play hospital politics like the residents. Youโre a fellow, a real goddamn doctor. This is your case. Your save. Youโve got it. So you introduce yourself with a friendly smile and explain, โI started here last month. Just havenโt had a big sexy skeletal trauma to dangle in front of you until today.โ
Park cracks what almost appears to be a smirk. Committing your name and your pretty face to memory, he says, โWelcome to the team, pipsqueak. Try not to butcher any bones and weโll get along fine.โ
โNo problem.โ You bounce slightly on your feet. โShall we get started here?โ
His chin cocks slightly to one side. Youโre not shrinking. Not bashful. Youโre smiling. Thatโs rare. He doesnโt mind. Arms crossed over that massive chest, he orders, eyes sweeping the room, โTell me what weโve got.โ
Whitaker looks to Robby. Robby looks to you. You nod and list off, โMr. Jacob Westman, thirty-seven-year-old green energy tower technician, brought in by ambulance after falling from an electrical tower. Freak accident. Alert and responsive on arrival but no sensation in lower extremities. Lead doctor on the case โ thatโs me; Iโve been point for Mr. Westman all day โ chose to sedate for pain management and stabilization once significant spinal injuries were identified. The most severe salvageable damage is in the cervical and thoracic, but I donโt necessarily agree with the interpretation from the ortho radiologist that-โ Robby clears his throat to stop you there. Sheepishly, you finish, โVitals are within safe range for operation to correct cervical and thoracic fractures and dislocations."
Robby offers, โSo essentially, the approach is-โ
โHold on.โ Park looks up from the chart and focuses squarely on you. โWhat did the radiologist say? Why did you stop there?โ
You glance over at Robby, whoโs shaking his head with pleading eyes. But itโs your case. Youโre the one who gave up your lunch break to pore over the imaging. So you let your eyes rove back to Dr. Parkโs and tell him firmly, โYour radiologist feels that the lumbar injuries causing Mr. Westmanโs paralysis are completely inoperable through traditional methods. I was advised to defer to his opinion.โ
Brows furrowed, he eyes you seriously. Almostโฆamused. Like heโs watching a puppy try a new trick. โWhatโs your opinion, doctor?โ
Behind Park, you see Whitaker shake his head and grimace like youโve just signed your own death certificate. Even Jesse is gripping his clipboard a little more tightly.
โI suggested that, even though it may be riskier, a series of nerve grafts and transfers could return the patientโs ability to walk.โ Your voice lowers a bit and you try not to let your wobbly โbleeding heart baby doctorโ voice come out. โMr. Westman is a highly-trained, highly-educated specialist in a type of engineering only a handful of people in the country can do. Work thatโs absolutely critical for the development of renewable energy sources. When I was going over everything with his wife, Jenna, she told me that he loves his job more than life itself. That he would risk everything to regain use of his legs.โ You swallow hard and pinch back tears. Itโs something that always annoys you; whenever you really, really care about something, you start to cry. Eyes averted, you wrap up, โI know that the kind of procedure Iโm suggesting would be much longer and much riskier on several levels and that itโs not at all my place to-โ
Park shakes his head and cuts you off, โShow me the scans.โ
You quickly brush past him to the nearby screen and blow up the images.
Dr. Park lets out a low whistle as he flips through the X-Rays, head tilted slightly as he gives the scans his full attention. He asks you a handful of questions and you answer them as best you can, all the eyes in the room burning the back of your head. You watch the wheels turning behind Parkโs eyes; this is his passion, his favorite thing, his reason to wake up. You love seeing people in that state where all theyโre thinking about is what they do best.
Finally, he turns to you and says, โI donโt care what your title at this hospital is. If a goddamn janitor can propose a valid surgical approach for an โinoperableโ injury, I want to hear it. Complex spinal reconstruction with multiple fusions, laminectomy, discectomyโฆfuck, โjust-about-everything-ectomy.โ Plus nerve transfer. Now thatโs sexy. I like it.โ Before Robby can thank him for taking over, Park looks you up and down โ just a little slow to be completely professional โ and asks, โPipsqueak, you wanna assist?โ
You stand up straighter and turn your attention to Robby with wide, hopeful eyes. Looking nothing short of shocked, he nods and does a โsure, why not?โ type of gesture. You give a big, adorable grin and say, โYeah, that would be awesome. Iโve always wanted to see autograft harvesting and transfer firsthand.โ
Whitaker shakes his head and mutters, โFreak.โ
โGo to the bathroom, eat a snack, and scrub for OR three,โ Park tells you, ignoring everyone else. As you nod eagerly and excuse yourself, he slaps Robby on the back hard enough to make him stagger and mutters, โCongrats, Mike, you finally matched a competent fellow.โ
Dumbfounded, Robby just says, โAh, thanks.โ
Coming out of the surgery thirteen hours later, youโre glowing like you havenโt been awake for thirty-four hours in a row. Following tight on his heels, youโre practically skipping as you beam, โDr. Park, that was so amazing. I canโt thank you enough for the opportunity.โ
โYouโre good,โ he says simply, walking through the halls of the surgical wing like he owns the place. โGreat calls like that deserve great rewards. Wouldโve given you a gold star sticker, but Iโm not as soft as Robinavitch.โ
โI wish Robby gave out stickers,โ you reply wistfully. โThat might actually convince me to stay here after my fellowship is up.โ
Youโre about to say something else when Park turns around and puts one baseball-glove-sized hand on your shoulder. โUnless you want to see my dick on our first day working together, you should probably stay on that side of this particular door.โ
You startle backwards as you realize heโs pushing into the menโs room. โOh my god. Iโm so sorry; I sometimes kinda space out when Iโm excited.โ
Park lets out a laugh. An honest-to-god laugh.
He has a handsome smile.
Even though your face is now about a thousand degrees, you still nibble your lower lip, grin, and call through the door, โBy the way, itโs technically our second day working together since that was an overnight surgery.โ
Parkโs amused, loud voice hollers back, โGo home and get some sleep, pipsqueak.โ
When you clock in for your next shift two days later, Dana waves you over right after youโre done putting your things away. She says, โThereโs something in your mailbox, if youโd believe it.โ
โReally?โ You worry a hangnail on your thumb. โDonโt tell me Iโm getting served or something.โ
โYou? Come on, youโre Miss Bedside Manner USA.โ She nods over to the doctorโs lounge and explains, โItโs from ortho. Something about that surgery you sat in on last week.โ
โHuh, okay. Thanks for letting me know.โ
You scurry off to your mailbox, which youโve only even looked at once, the day you started. Theyโre a relic from the days of fax machines and printers. Inside your cubby is a blank, hospital-issue envelope. Upper left corner: Brendon Park, MD, FAAOS. In the middle, in his scratchy handwriting: Pipsqueak. With your lips pursed in curiosity, you rip the top of the envelope and remove the contents.
Inside a folded piece of notebook paper, thereโs a card-sized sticker sheet with eight big, cutesy stickers on it. A happy sun, baby ducks, a strawberry, a stuffed bunny. All things sweet and girly. The theme is white, baby pink, sky blue, and light yellow, the same colors as the heart-patterned shirt youโd been wearing under your scrubs. In between the big stickers, a few pastel stars serve as filler.
With a little squeal, you unfold the note and read. Couldnโt find one with a gold star. Close enough. Good job. Happy youโre here.
Underneath, heโs drawn a tiny shark in lieu of a signature.
You melt โ just a little.
Riding the elevator up after your lunch break, itโs kind of embarrassing how much your heart is pounding. Youโre really not supposed to be doing this. Itโs a total violation of protocol โ not the sort that would get you in real HR trouble, but definitely the kind that could permanently piss someone off.
But you do it anyway. You gently knock on Dr. Parkโs door after checking with the ortho receptionist that heโs in. He makes a sort of grunting sound that you interpret as โyes, what?โ Pushing the door open just enough to slip into the opening, you say, โHi, Dr. Park. Robby asked me to page ortho down for a follow-up on the Westman case, but I thought it would be nice to ask you directly so that they could have consistency of-โ When Park doesnโt even look at you, eyes staring intently at the file on his computer, you shrink into the doorway and shake your head. โSorry; thatโs silly. Iโll get back downstairs and send a page like I shouldโve to stop annoying you.โ
His eyes flick to yours for half a second. His eyebrows go together almost imperceptibly. โYouโre not annoying me.โ
โOh. Thanks.โ You bite your lower lip and stare at your shoes for a moment. Purple sneakers today, Park notices. Matching the lavender polka dots on your long sleeves. โSo, yeah, if you have time today to come down and check his repeat images with me, that would be really amazing. Iโm working until six, so no rush. No pressure. I know youโre really busy. And I can definitely just ask Torres if you-โ
โIโll do it,โ he interrupts urgently. โDonโt ask Torres. Or anyone else. Iโve got it.โ Then he adds, hasty, โPatient outcomes improve when they have a consistent care team. Youโre right about that. You can come get me about Mr. Westman whenever you need to.โ
At that, you absolutely beam. His eyes go to your lips. Your cupidโs bow and the way it stretches when you smile. A pretty smile, he thinks. Really pretty. You glow, โOkay, perfect, I will. Thank you.โ
You linger for a second, one hand on the doorknob as you debate whether or not to say something. He hasnโt returned to his computer screen, eyes just roaming around the room and occasionally spending a second on you, so you take it as an invitation.
โI also wanted to, um, to say thanks for the stickers, by the way.โ You lift your water bottle and show him the doodle-style pink star youโd picked out to grace it among your collection. โI really like them.โ
โGood.โ Heโs tempted to lie, say it was someone elseโs idea, act like he found them somewhere in the hospital, but he canโt when heโs looking at your delighted schoolgirl smile. โSaw them at Target and thought of you. It was nice to work with someone soโฆcompetent.โ You swear thereโs a slight blush in his cheeks, but it must be a trick of the light. It must be. Then he clears his throat and adds, โIโll come down to see you- for Mr. Westmanโs follow-up in an hour, alright? I have to finish this report and my dyslexiaโs fucking killing me today.โ
Physically unable to stop yourself from being helpful, you offer, โI could type it up for you, if you want.โ
โI didnโt mean to tell you that,โ he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. โYou have this disarming thing about you. Itโs jarring.โ
โUm, thanks?โ You tilt your head like a puppy. โAre you not supposed to talk about it or something?โ
He shrugs, definitely blushing now and pretending not to be, and replies, โPeople hear their doctor has a learning disability and get a little antsy. So if you donโt mind, keep that to yourself.โ
โNo problem, Dr. Park, Iโm the picture of discretion,โ you assure him seriously. But then you keep spilling out, โBut, yโknow, I actually read this study from the Royal College of Surgeons that showed people with dyslexia make better surgeons than their peers because of their well-developed spatial reasoning skills, attention to detail, and problem-solving ability โ not to mention the resilience and creativity that inherently come from- Aaaand Iโm word vomiting. Shoot. Sorry. Itโs- itโs chronic, my word vomit. I see a specialist.โ
He raises an eyebrow in amusement. โDo you now?โ
โYup. My likelihood of remission is incredibly low. Lifelong struggle, really.โ You swallow hard and tell him gently, โUm, I had this undergrad student I tutored. He was in biology โ pre-med โ but he didnโt think he could do it because he was dyslexic. So I did a bunch of research and presented it to him. Iโm not, like, one of those cool photographic memory people who remember every study on earth or something.โ
โPeople with photographic memories freak me out,โ he says with a chuckle. You wonder if youโre the only person in the ED whoโs heard him laugh. More than once, even. Then he says something that actually does manage to shock you: โIโd love the help, if you have time.โ
โYay!โ You do this little bouncing thing that makes his head spin. โIโm still on my lunch, so I have a few minutes.โ
Voice sounding almost protective, he checks, โDid you eat?โ
โYeah, of course. But I get bored if I donโt have anything to do after my leftovers.โ You scooch around his desk and slide between him and the computer, your perky ass directly in his face. With your fingers hovering over his keyboard, you lilt, โAlright, big man, what are we writing?โ
It takes Park fifteen seconds to recalibrate, ten of those seconds spent memorizing the way he can see the outline of your tiny thong when you lean forward slightly, the fabric of your scrubs taut over your ass. Then he hastily stands up and puts himself behind the chair, his nosy dick safe from being seen, and says, โWhy donโt you take my spot? Youโll be more comfortable.โ
You shrug and sit down, throwing your head way back to look up at him with perfect, sweet blowjob eyes. โWhatever you say, Shark.โ
The next time Parkโs in the ED, his crush on you is completely and totally solidified. Itโs horrifying, the way the feeling swirls around his stomach and makes his cheeks hot. Itโs not a feeling thatโs ever dared encounter him in the workplace and, honestly, not in a hell of a long time outside of it, either.
Itโs because youโve got Ogilvie backed up against a wall, your pointed finger in the center of his chest. Heโs a head taller than you, even slouching, but youโre dwarfing him with your energy. Parkโs never seen you so brutally animated, eyebrows knitted together and posture perfectly straight. He lingers a bit too close, hugging the corner so he can listen and watch.
Ogilvieโs hands are up in the air, waving, frustrated. โI didnโt do anything wrong! All I did was-โ
โOh my god, how many times do I have to tell you to shut up and listen to me?โ With your feet planted firmly in your white sneakers with red laces and your arms crossed in your cherry-printed sleeves, you go on, โI get that Iโm a woman. I get that Iโm short and cute and girly. I get that you think youโre godโs gift to medicine.โ
โI donโt think Iโm-โ
โI wasnโt done. I get that you struggle to respect me. Idiotic men often do. But let me make one thing abundantly clear: You are a slug of a man-child, James. You leave a trail of slime behind yourself in the form of problems everyone else needs to clean up, you hide whenever things get hard, and you need to blot the oil from your T-zone so youโre less shiny. And invest in a frizz-control shampoo.โ While Park stifles a snorting laugh, you go on with the most pointed, cruel voice heโs ever heard from a woman so painfully adorable, โIf you ever speak to me like that again, you will envy the corpses you practice on. All you will do clinically is change infected necrotic dressings and disimpact bowels and every other moment of your day will be dedicated to administrative scut so monotonous it makes your vision blurry. I will ask to have you on my service every day just so I can torture you until you question your entire career path. Do we have an understanding?โ
Ogilvie is too stunned to speak for thirty seconds straight. Then he swallows and stammers out, โYes, doctor. I- I understand.โ
You nod tightly and add, โIโd like an apology now.โ
โIโm sorry,โ he says right away. It sounds more afraid than earnest, but thatโll get the job done. โI shouldnโt have spoken to you the way I did.โ
โGood. I forgive you.โ Then you give him a warm, friendly smile and a pat on the head that you have to rock up onto your toes to execute fully. โNow letโs get back to Mrs. Andrews so you can get another lumbar puncture under your belt before your next evaluation, alright?โ
Ogilvie manages to get out, โThanks,โ before you turn around and lead him back to the ED. He looks like a scolded toddler, lip pouted and cheeks red, while you have that familiar unshakeable pep in your step.
And Brendon Park is smitten.
The next week, as youโre sending off a list of prescriptions, you hear Langdonโs voice from the other side of the ED. โSharkbait, get over here!โ
You turn toward Langdon and point at yourself. โMe?โ
His eyes are big and begging. โYeah, cโmon, I need you.โ
โI have work to do, Frank.โ
โPlease?โ He clasps his hands in front of his chest like a prayer. โParkโs going to kill me when he sees the state of these ribs.โ
Exasperated, you cut back, โWhat the hell does that have to do with me?โ
โYouโre Sharkbait,โ he replies, mimicking your expression. โWhen youโre in the room, heโs less of a dick.โ
Several craving any time with Brendon, you roll your eyes and stomp over, telling him, โIโll give you five minutes. Get me up to speed.โ
He runs through the patient history with you while you gently palpate the chest.
โJesus Christ,โ you breathe as you feel the myriad of fractures all over the ribcage and sternum. โLUCAS?โ
โOn an elderly osteoporosis patient. Dumbass firefighter meatheads.โ He shakes his head and mutters, โItโs basically a bag of bone soup in there.โ
โSounds promising,โ Park announces, always knowing when to cut into a conversation. When he sees you, he sighs in relief, โPipsqueak, thank god youโre on this, too. I donโt have the patience for dealing with Ken on my own today.โ
As Langdon talks to Park with you just sort of standing there as an emotion diffuser, Santos and Whitaker watch in wonder from the hub.
Trinity, whose last interaction with the Shark ended with him saying she should switch to a career with no skeletons involved, scoffs and murmurs, โWhy hasnโt he ripped her head off? Sheโs brand new; she doesnโt know how to placate him.โ
โHer aura powers are unknown to us,โ Whitaker mutters back. โShe has some kind of sorcery ability incomprehensible to the masses.โ
โI mean, she has nice tits,โ Trinity reasons. โSheโs smart. Made some good calls in front of him.โ
Whitaker argues, โBaranโs brilliant and has great tits. He called her an imbecile last week.โ
Amused, Trinity raises her eyebrows. โYou think Dr. Al-Hashimi has great tits?โ
โNot the point.โ A minute later, Park leaves the room with a smile in your direction. You swish over to the hub to grab a new chart and Dennis asks, โWhatโs the deal with you and the Shark?โ
Humming gently, you ask him absently, โWhat do you mean?โ
Trinity cuts in to reply for them both, โWell, I mean, he likes you. Are you two fucking?โ
Your eyes startle wide at the idea โ tantalizing but impossibly far away. Park is so wildly out of your league you can barely entertain the thought. โWhat? No! Of course not. Brendonโs not as bad as you guys think. You just have to get to know him.โ
Trinity mouths to Whitaker, Brendon?
Whitaker shrugs, baffled, and then muses as the three of you watch Park head toward the OR, โI didnโt realize that was a possibility.โ
You chuckle and tease, โMaybe try being a better doctor next time?โ
โBrutal, Sharkbait. Brutal.โ
That weekend, the Pittsburgh Penguins hosts its annual Medical Worker Appreciation Night. Because Danaโs been nominated as a spotlighted nurse, the hospital sprung for discounted tickets in the name of staff morale.
Robby shepherds you and the other newer ED staff whoโd gotten their hands on a ticket down to the PTMC section. When he checks seats, pointing everyone in the right direction, he frowns at yours. โKid, do you wanna trade spots with me?โ
Your brows furrow. โWhat? Why?โ
โLook.โ
Your eyes follow Robbyโs pointing chin. At the end of the long row, Parkโs perched on the edge of his seat, staring down the players doing warmups. Heโs wearing a black Penguins hoodie, a black Penguins hat, and a pair of jeans that his meaty thighs battle for dominance with. Youโve never seen him outside of scrubs and itโs becoming a problem very quickly. You shrug and tell Robby, โI donโt mind.โ
โYou sure?โ
โWe get along great, actually.โ
โThat explains the new nickname,โ he chuckles under his breath. โI figured it was because youโre a sacrificial lamb.โ
Park catches your eyes and waves you over, his lips flirting with the concept of a smile. He canโt bear to say it out loud, can barely even tolerate the thought in his own head, but heโd looked over the seating chart on the HR receptionistโs computer and basically threatened Ogilvieโs life to switch with him (and then swore him to secrecy on similar conditions).
You plop down next to him and nudge him in the bicep. โHi, Bren, I didnโt think you came to things like this.โ
Bren. Nobodyโs used a nickname besides โSharkโ for him in decades. He shrugs like his heart rate isnโt picking up at the way your arm has to touch his because of how broad he is. โItโs hockey.โ
โItโs team bonding,โ you tease. โYou hate bonding. And teams that arenโt sports.โ
โBut I like free Pens tickets,โ he replies simply. Then he notices your outfit. Youโre wearing pants, at least โ leggings, because fuck him, he figures โ but your arms are agonizingly bare from the elbows down, your yellow tee not doing much to protect your skin. He frowns and asks, โDid you bring a jacket or something? Youโre gonna freeze to death in here.โ
You shake your head. โItโs not that cold; Iโll be okay.โ
โGive it a period.โ
โIโm not on my- Oh. Theyโre called periods in hockey?โ
Biting back a mean joke because of your sweet, innocent eyes, he says, โYeah. Periods. Three twenty-minute periods with intermissions between.
โYouโre gonna have to explain everything to me,โ you say as you stare at the different parts of the stadium. โIโm not from a hockey town.โ
โI donโt mind,โ he admits after a second. He adds carefully, โI never get to talk hockey outside of work.โ
โNo gym buddies to gab with?โ
โNo gym buddies,โ he confirms.
โThatโs shocking, considering the biceps of it all.โ And the pecs you would honestly motorboat. And the big veiny hands. And the thick thighs you could bounce on for hours. You swallow hard, thankful you donโt have a dick to give away your thoughts. โAre you one of those douchey guys who puts in his AirPods and focuses on his form in the mirror? Oh my god, do you film yourself so you can make sure you-โ
โOkay, okay, thatโs enough,โ he laughs, raising his hands in defeat. โYouโve got me pegged, sweetheart. I have to be strong because I crack femurs all day. And you have to focus on form if you want to get strong and donโt want to get hurt.โ
โSo no time for gym buddies.โ You lilt, sweet and easy, โMaybe you can show me some time. I could use a little more muscle and a little less-โ
โNo, you definitely donโt need โlessโ anything,โ he protests way too quickly as his mouth goes dry. He can barely tolerate the sight of you in leggings this close to him; heโd burst a blood vessel if you were in bike shorts and a sports bra like his brain immediately supplies. With his neck going splotchy pink, he course corrects, โLifting isnโt about losing weight or visible muscle. Itโs about building practical strength.โ
And your body is fucking perfect. If you wanted to change it out of insecurity, heโd drop to his knees and kiss your feet until you realized you shouldnโt change a thing. Your thighs are just the right thickness, your ass downright juicy, your stomach spectacularly soft, your breasts-
Park sucks in a sharp, deep breath and shakes out the thoughts. โIโm gonna grab something to eat before the game starts. Can I get you anything?โ
After a second of thinking, you ask sweetly, โDo they have cheese fries?โ
โThey have every disgusting, greasy sports food you could ever want,โ he confirms. โIโll be right back with some goodies.โ
You occupy yourself by playing social butterfly, introducing yourself to everyone you havenโt had a chance to meet yet. When Park returns, he takes a second to admire you running around spreading your sunshine. Then you return to his side and squeal when you see a mountain of loaded cheese fries that make your mouth water in the best way.
Before sitting down to share them with you, Park shoves a folded garment into your arms. โPut this on. I wonโt be able to focus on the game if youโre shivering next to me the whole time.โ
โAw, Bren, thank you.โ Your voice borders on a whimper as you unfold the classic lacer pullover, black with yellow and tan bars around the lower hem and arms, the iconic penguin himself at the center of the chest. โJust let me know how much I owe you for it โ at least for half.โ
He rolls his eyes. โShut up; itโs a gift.โ
โOkay, thank you so much, thatโs so sweet, but the suggestion to shut up is incredibly offensive given I disclosed my word vomit diagnosis to you,โ you reply seriously, glaring at him.
Park clutches his chest and tells you, โI apologize for making light of your vulnerability with me.โ
โI forgive you because of the cheese fries.โ You examine the back of the thick, cozy hoodie and observe, โCrosby. Is he your favorite? Or just the cheapest sweater?โ
Park smirks (itโs the most expensive sweater) and replies, โSid the Kid. Best player Pittsburghโs ever had. Best player in the league, if you ask anyone with a brain. Rumor has it heโs retiring soon; I think thatโll be my first true heartbreak.โ
You balk at the idea. โYouโve never had your heart broken? I get my heart broken ten times a month.โ
He raises his eyebrows. โYou go on that many dates?โ
โNo, no, no, no dates,โ you quickly reply. Too quickly. A little desperately. โBut it breaks my heart when I see sad puppy commercials or old people eating alone at restaurants or trailers for romantic dramas at the movies. One time I cried because I could only find one of my favorite socks. I tried and I tried but the second one was justโฆgone. I couldnโt look at the single one without getting so sad it was hard to-โ
โTeam introductionโs starting, then the national anthem,โ he interrupts gently. Reluctantly. Like heโs actually invested in your rambling. โPut a lid on the word vomit for ten minutes and Iโm all yours for a full sock eulogy.โ
You giggle and salute as the whole stadium stands. โYes, sir.โ
He rolls his shoulders and pretends that doesnโt go straight to his dick. When you cheer extra loud for Sidney Crosby as he skates to center, jumping a tiny bit like your smile is too big to hold in your body, Park damn near swoons. He wants to sling his arm around your waist and pull you into him, to kiss the top of your head, to, fuck, put you on his shoulders and parade you around or something. He canโt even name everything he wants to do with and to and for you. Itโs agony.
Once the game starts, Park takes care to make sure you understand whatโs going on. โThatโs Ovechkin. Youโre gonna see one hell of a game. Heโs Crosbyโs biggest rival.โ
โSo we hate him,โ you reply obediently. โGot it.โ
He smiles at you and confirms, โYeah, we hate him. Mostly because heโs really fucking good.โ
You nudge him with your shoulder and tease, โThatโs why people hate you, so itโs good company.โ
He barks out a laugh. โIs that why?โ
โThat or because you never show off that handsome smile.โ
With a pout, he counters, โI smile plenty.โ
โHe said, frowning.โ
โIโll smile when the Pens win,โ he promises.
But, despite his best efforts, he does, actually, get caught smiling before the end of the game. In a big, obnoxious way. After the end of the second period, with the game tied 1-1, you watch the kiss cam flying around the arena with dopey heart eyes so precious Brendon canโt rip his eyes away from you. Itโs too cute of an expression not to memorize.
You donโt notice heโs staring, too wrapped up in loving to see people in love, until his face lights up the big screen. Youโre so shocked that you donโt process just how bright and intent his eyes are, his lips soft and slightly upturned, everything about his expression and posture screaming โgod, sheโs beautiful, isnโt she?โ Itโs the kind of expression kiss cam operators gravitate toward; only men who adore their girls look like that.
Before he can even truly realize that itโs you and him on screen, his eyes widening, you grab him and plant a big fat shimmery lip gloss kiss on his cheek. Then you grin, following it up by blowing a kiss and winking to the camera.
And Brendon Park smiles wide enough to power the whole arena, the apples of his cheek glowing neon pink and he drops his eyes and shakes his head in delight.
The video is immediately saved and sent to the ED group chat by none other than Trinity Santos, naturally. One of the nurses proceeds to forward it to the nurses chat, where it makes its way to the ortho chat. By the time the camera even pans away, the moment has been forever cemented in PTMC history as the first time Park the Shark has smiled earnestly โ innocently, even โ in front of his coworkers.
Only the whoops, cheers, and laughs from your nearby ED coworkers drops him back onto earth from cloud nine. Park frowns as he rubs his cheek with a napkin, pouting, โYou got lipgloss on my face.โ
โWhat was I supposed to do?โ You gesture to Trinity and Whitaker, who are pumping their fists in their air victoriously. โLeave my adoring fans hanging?โ
With a sheepish wave in their direction to get them to fuck off, he mutters, โI think youโve permanently damaged my tough guy reputation.โ
But you just reply in a sing-sony voice, โYou didnโt have to blush.โ
โInvoluntary response to relevant stimulus.โ
โWhatever you say, big guy.โ
If heโs honest with himself, his smile isnโt half as bright when the Penguins win an hour later. It only warms back up to critical heat when you wrap him in a hug, gleefully jumping up and down as the puck hits the net right as the buzzer goes off. Heโd kiss you for real if you werenโt surrounded by the PTMC staff.
Still, with your arms around the back of his neck, he canโt resist doing something. So he keeps it simple and asks, โItโs been a while since those cheese fries; want to grab dinner with me?โ
When you say yes, his heart sings.
After the hockey game, thereโs a definite shift in your friendship with Brendon. Itโs more playful. Less guarded. The two of you grab dinner together after your shifts whenever Park doesnโt have a late surgery and, if you miss out on dinner, he insists on coffee in the morning. He tells you about his personal life and you do the same, not that itโs hard on your end. Gradually, you start to notice the differences that everyone else in the ED picked up on months and months ago. The way his face goes from hardened to soft when he sees you entering a room. The way his texts have emojis instead of periods. The way he accepts your hugs instead of turning them into handshakes.
Right when youโve gotten up your confidence to actually ask him out, you overhear him and Robby talking in hushed tones inside Parkโs office. The doorโs cracked and youโd come up specifically to ask him to go out with you in a few days on Saturday because you both actually have a weekend off.
With an X-Ray in hand, Robby pushes, โAre you sure you canโt do the revision yourself on Sunday? I know youโre not scheduled to be here, but the family trusts you now, and it might be-โ
โI told you, man, Iโm surprising my girlfriend on Sunday. Iโve been sitting on these ballet tickets for weeks already and I donโt do shit like that,โ Park tells him sternly. No room for argument. โYouโre in good hands with Torres; sheโs as good as me any day โ maybe better since people actually like her.โ
You donโt wait for Robbyโs response. Losing your ability to breathe, you scamper to the nearby staircase and start stamping your way down to the ED. Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces. No, a million. They fall down the stairs like glass, so heavy youโre surprised you canโt hear them echoing.
Stopping just shy of the ED entrance, you tuck yourself away underneath the staircase to catch your breath, trying not to let yourself cry. Parkโs just one of those guys, you figure. Guys with ultra-secure girlfriends who donโt care if they have female friends who drool all over their biceps. Guys who donโt mention their ultra-secure girlfriends because they know what they have at home and they probably donโt even realize youโre flirting because theyโre so enamored with their great, successful, probably gorgeous girlfriend who knows exactly what sheโs doing in bed and always satisfies him and-
There are the tears.
Feelings of inadequacy and sadness well up and spill over. Itโs hard to keep your sniffles and sobs quiet enough not to draw attention when all you want is to ugly sob over a tub of ice cream and your favorite movie. Only one more hour in your shift. You can make it. Right?
Upstairs, you hear the door squeak open and heavy footsteps traipse down toward you. Familiar footsteps. Of course. He probably saw you running away from his office and is coming to find you because you have the luck of a worm after a rainstorm.
When Park comes closer, he spots your elbow sticking out from behind the staircase. Hiding. Youโre still crying, unable to stop yourself until you get it all out. Silently, yes, but with puffy eyes and tiny whimpers and sniffles that escape every once in a while. Tucked up underneath the staircase, you blot at your cheeks with the sleeve of your daisy-patterned turtleneck.
Rage devours Brendonโs insides. He beelines for you and demands with a level of anger in his eyes youโve never seen before, โWhatโs wrong? Did someone make you cry?โ
โNo, no, Iโm fine.โ You try a shaky smile and wipe your face again even though more tears just fall in their wake. โJust, um, Iโm on my period and Iโm emotional.โ
Which isnโt not true. Itโs the last day or two and you are emotional. Itโs definitely not helping the situation. Parkโs a little taken aback you admitted that so freely, but heโs a doctor, dammit, so he doesnโt let it faze him. Instead he offers, โOkay, well, um, do you, ah, do you need anything? I have some ibuprofen in my office if-โ
You start crying harder, ugly sobs now at how nice heโs being when he just unintentionally and unknowingly turned you into a 12-year-old girl having her first heartbreak.
Park stammers, unsure how to deal with this situation. โOkay, ah, maybe just a hug, then?โ
You nod ardently and he pulls you close with his strong arms. You nestle your face in his chest and breathe deep. If this is the closest youโre gonna get to having him, youโre gonna milk it for all itโs worth. With your nose pressed to his muscles as you start to calm down, you whimper, โYou smell really good.โ
Still tentative, Brendon murmurs, โItโs Dior. My mom bought it for me.โ
Then you start crying even more.
That night, after making some lazy excuse to Brendon for why you canโt get dinner like usual, you curl up on your couch and vow to set some darn boundaries with the guy. Youโre only going to get yourself hurt if you indulge in dinners and coffees and stolen gazes and elevator conversations. So you put his messages on silent, only returning them when you actually have a second instead of carving out time. You make a point of ducking into other rooms when you know heโs coming down for a consult, ignoring the desperate calls for Sharkbait from your hapless coworkers.
And by the time youโre clocked out on Friday night, you almost feel better about the situation. Well, thatโs a lie. You actually donโt feel better at all. If anything, you feel much, much worse because you donโt have your best friend to hang out with anymore. Youโre going to have to resort to drinks with the Pittlings if you donโt find another attending soon.
But at least you have the weekend to wallow.
Walking to your bus stop with Celine Dion blasting in your ears, you try to focus on the pretty sunset and the wins of the shift instead of letting your brain drift to-
Fuck.
Brendonโs standing at your bus stop with his stance wide and his arms crossed like a bodyguard, forearms looking extra delectable in the sunset. Heโs not a hallucination from your lovesick mind nor a hologram designed to trip you up on the way home.
You scurry up to him with averted eyes and ask, โWhat are you doing here? You drive a Rolls-Royce.โ
โYeah, and that Spectre is my damn baby, but you take the bus when youโre ignoring my offer for rides. So here I am.โ His eyes drill through your forehead and your resolve. โCan we talk now?โ
Weakly, you mutter back, โMy bus is in five minutes.โ
โYouโre not taking the bus. Iโm driving you.โ The firmness of his voice makes your knees wobble. He nods over his shoulder toward the small park next to the hospital. โWeโre talking. Come on.โ
Then he takes your hand โ you want to throw up โ and leads you through the park entrance to a shaded spot under a tree where the light makes his chiseled features agonizingly beautiful. Like a fucking Roman marble sculpture. He doesnโt wait for you to say anything, instead taking charge and launching in, โWhatโs going on with you? Why have you been ignoring me the last few days? If I did something to hurt you, tell me and Iโll fix it. I know Iโm a dumbass about the feelings stuff sometimes, a lot of the time, but Iโm not going to mess shit up with you, so you have to let me know what I need to do better.โ
โYou havenโt done anything wrong,โ you whimper. You hate how pathetic you sound. How downtrodden and heartbroken. But Brendon looks hurt, too, which makes you feel ten times as bad. So you rush out a hasty version of the truth, โI came up to your office on Wednesday to ask you on a date this weekend, but then- then I heard you telling Robby about your girlfriend who youโre surprising on Sunday and it just, like, crushed me so bad even though I know it was so silly for me to think Iโd ever have a chance with someone like you in the first place since youโre this sexy strong surgeon and Iโm so not but I thought maybe in the last couple months-โ
โWoah, pipsqueak, hey.โ Brendon cups your cheek in his hand to cut you off once the shock of your words wears off. โWhat the hell are you talking about?โ
Unable to meet his eyes, you start to feel the tears coming. Dammit. You stare at your pink sneakers โ the same ones you were wearing when the two of you met, you realize โ and let them fall to the ground. After a minute, you manage to admit, โI just- I donโt think I can be this close to you if you have a girlfriend. Itโs great that sheโs so cool about you having female friends, but Iโm just so sensitive and I know thatโs not your fault but-โ
โHold on.โ Brendon places both hands on your shoulders, staring at you like youโre an alien making first contact. Baffled beyond his wildest dreams, he explains slowly, โYouโre my girlfriend.โ
Between sniffles and shaky breaths, you whimper out, unable to process anything, โHuh?โ
โMy girlfriend. Who Iโm surprising on Sunday. That would be you.โ
Now itโs your turn to go catatonic, eyes wide and shimmery. โWhat are you talking about?โ
โI asked you out to dinner after the hockey game,โ he tells you, exasperated in the cutest way youโve ever seen. Like youโre dumb but like maybe heโs also dumb. โI paid for your dinner. I insisted you get dessert. The whole thing. And we- Sweetheart, what do you think all the dinners we eat together are? Why else would I always be inviting you for coffee? Why would I always pay? I donโt just dump a couple hundred bucks a week on casual coworkers.โ
Starting to feel silly instead of sad, you cover your laugh and protest, โI donโt know; I thought you were being friendly! You make $500,000 a year; you should be paying for all your friendsโ coffees!โ
โ$650,000, actually, I have a sub-specialty in pediatric surgery,โ he replies as though you wouldnโt drop your panties right here in the park. โMore importantly, I am the least friendly person in the entire hospital. Maybe the entire city.โ He runs a hand through his hair and replies a bit bashfully, โI kind of figured you like that about me or we wouldnโt be dating.โ
The last two months recontextualize in your head in rapid succession. Little moments appear lit up by neon lights that blare, HEY DUMBASS! Brendon tied your shoes last week instead of telling you they were loose, dropping down on his knees right outside the ED where anyone could see just to make sure you wouldnโt trip. He always takes your backpack from your shoulders before walking you to the parking garage and opening the door of his gorgeous navy blue sedan for you. Even the way he looked at you at the hockey game.
God, youโre an idiot.
With your lips parted and your eyes rapidly blinking, you come up with a new protest: โYouโve never even tried to kiss me, Brendon. What the fuck? You should be kissing me all the time! You couldโve been jumping my bones ever since the hockey game; that wouldโve made things pretty clear to me!โ
โJumping your bones?โ He suppresses a laugh since youโre still flustered. He just kind of scoffs and explains with a shrug, โI guess Iโm still old-school about that. A gentleman. I wasnโt picking up signals that you wanted me to, yโknow, make a big move. Figured we should take it slow. I mean, youโre new to Pittsburgh, youโve had some big life changes. And I have a history of being too, ah, too intense for some women. I didnโt want to mess that up with you.โ
โThatโs actually really sweet, Bren,โ you reply, sniffling back tears. Waving a hand in front of your face to cool down your burning cheeks, you pinch your eyebrows together and point out, โOkay, well, then we never did, like, a โwhat are we?โ talk.โ
โThatโs because Iโm 38 years old,โ he replies bluntly. โWhen Iโm with my woman, she has my full attention. My devotion. Everything. I donโt need to have that talk.โ
My woman. The phrase makes you feel kinda bubbly like soda. You smack him on the chest and poke him, โClearly you do, dummy!โ
After you nudge him, Park catches your hand in his, fingers enveloping yours. Fuck, his hands are so big and sturdy. Then his eyes soften and he kisses your fingers. He leans down slightly to make better eye contact. โOkay, Iโll have that talk if you want it.โ Crystal clear, blue eyes positively sparkling with amusement and adoration, he asks, โWould you like to be my very, very official girlfriend?โ
You let out an absolute squeal. Itโs delighted and silly and so cute his stomach turns. God, how did a girl like you get your claws in him? When you throw your arms around his neck and he spins you around, he doesnโt care why or how. He just cares that the first words out of your mouth are, โYes, of course, obviously.โ You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, feet barely touching the ground, and murmur against his ear, โThis is my favorite night ever.โ
โYouโve got me wrapped around your finger, princess,โ he assures as he sets you down on your own balance. Then he holds your face in his palm and finally bends down to kiss you properly.
But you stop him with your pointer finger in his lips, his eyes widening. โNo, no, no, I canโt have our first kiss be when Iโm all puffy and snotty from crying.โ
He gives a pretend growl but concedes, โFair enough. Whatever you want. Cโmon, letโs get you home.โ
Before he turns away, though, you step on your very tippy toes (and then some) and kiss his forehead before asking so sweetly, โHow about you come over tomorrow? I know we already have plans Sunday โ by the way, I really love the ballet, so good job โ but maybe we should have a first date that I know is a first date beforehand?โ
โYeah, of course,โ he replies wistfully, still feeling your lips on his skin. On his thick fucking skull. โIโll go anywhere you ask me.โ
Like you asked, Brendon knocks on your door at 3PM sharp. You promised to entertain him and make him dinner and he could absolutely care less about any of the details beyond getting to be with you like he craves. Heโd agonized over what to wear to an embarrassing extent, nearly caving and texting his mother for her approval. But that would be a fate worse than death, so he settles on dark jeans rolled at the ankle and a black tee because a little old lady told him he looked hunky when he wore them to the pharmacy a few weeks ago.
You answer the door wearing nothing but the oversized Penguins sweater he bought you, a pair of panties he can barely see under it, and knee-high socks.
Parkโs pupils dilate.
In that one look, you can finally see why they call him Shark. Heโs a predator latching onto you, ready to devour you alive. You take a step back and he steps forward like youโre pulling him by a string attached to his gut. He doesnโt even notice himself closing and locking the door, too fixated on the expanse of your legs and the Pittsburgh Penguins logo on your chest. He tentatively puts one hand on your waist and sighs reverently, โYup, this is the singular sexiest thing Iโve ever seen.โ
You look away from him, bashful under his praise: โWell, yโknow, I wanted to surprise my boyfriend since heโs planning on surprising me tomorrow.โ Then your attempt at a sultry voice goes away and is replaced by your usual glittery one when you see that heโs carrying a bouquet of pastel pink, soft orange, and angel white gerberas in the hand not touching you. โBrenny, did you get me flowers?โ
โBrennyโ might be too far, but he canโt bear to tell you that. You could call him anything and heโd accept it. He lifts the flowers up and offers them to you. โUm, yes. Is that still romantic or is it really, really lame now?โ
โStill romantic,โ you assure him with misty eyes, taking the bouquet and skipping away toward the kitchen.
Brendon toes off his shoes and follows you into the house, not surprised to find the place decked out in pastel colors and soft fabrics and dreamy artwork. You dig through your cabinets to find a porcelain vase you thrifted years ago and arrange the flowers inside of it.
As you place them on the windowsill, you give him a soft gaze, softer than any heโs been on the receiving side of. โThis is the sweetest thing any manโs ever done for me.โ
Brendon pulls you into a warm embrace, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and says, โBaby, youโre about to have your bar raised, because flowers are the least you deserve.โ When your lips part into a shy smile, he asks, โCan I kiss you now?โ
You nod eagerly and rock up onto your toes, tilting your chin to get as close to him as possible. Brendonโs gentle, boyish smile makes your heart pound in your throat in the moments before he closes the gap. He takes a second to admire the slopes of your face when youโre gazing up at him like he means something.
And then he kisses you.
Itโs eager and bright, the way you kiss after prom night. You have to fight not to smile when he holds your face between both hands, so much desire in his touch that you can feel his resolve to take it slow with you melting away.
Suddenly, at the sound of you giggling for only a second, Brendonโs arms loop around your back. Before you know it, heโs lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You hop up, knowing heโll catch you, and lock your legs around his hips. When you feel his smooth, cold belt buckle against your panties, you gasp out a moan at the contact.
Brendon chuckles and buries his forehead in the crook of your neck. He groans quietly, โBaby, you canโt make all those little sounds or youโre gonna kill me.โ
Breathless, you tease back, โThen you definitely canโt call me baby.โ
He smirks, kisses you again, and asks in a lower and more pointed voice, โWhereโs your bedroom, baby?โ
โItโs right upstairs; if you wanna put me down, I can-โ
He shakes his head and keeps you balanced firmly in his arms, walking back toward the staircase. โNo point in having these muscles if my girl ever has to touch the ground again.โ
As he carries you up the stairs so easily that youโre turning into a person made more of giggles than anything else, you ask him, โAre you gonna carry me around from patient to patient forever?โ
โIf thatโs what you want,โ he replies with a laugh as he pushes through your bedroom door. Guiding you down onto the bed, which youโve meticulously made, Brendon murmurs against the pulse point just beneath your ear, โIโll give you everything you want, kitten.โ
At the tender pet name, you canโt help but moan, encouraging him to touch you as he pins you to the bed just by virtue of how big his body is. He pulls back and gazes down at you so gently. Your heartbeat is slow again, comfortable, safe, but the heat between your legs is undeniable.
Brendon lowers himself down to kiss you once more. The energy between you shifts in that kiss, like heโs become painfully aware of being in your bedroom, your body pliant beneath him, your eyes full of trust and adoration he hasnโt experienced in years. His kiss is slow and sweet and simple. He shifts onto his side so one of his hands can cradle your cheek while the other gingerly takes your waist. You can tell heโs being painfully careful with you, his gentle touch revealing a certain level of fear โ that heโll hurt you or break you or scare you off.
So you reach forward and twine your fingers in the short hair at the base of his neck, gently scratching his scalp, and press your body against his. One leg thrown over his hip so that he can feel the heat of your barely clothed cunt. You arch your back and wiggle a tiny bit so that his hand almost has to move to your ass. He chuckles into the kiss and that makes you whimper. But he doesnโt do more, doesnโt grab or push or demand.
You pull back an inch, stare at him seriously, and murmur, โYouโre not gonna break me, Bren.โ
Mischief flickers in his blue eyes. He knows perfectly well what youโre asking, even if heโs tentative to give it to you. โWhat are you trying to say, sweetheart? Use your words.โ
Mimicking his own voice, you bat your lashes and offer, โWhatโs the point in having those muscles if you donโt throw your girl around a little? Cโmon, Shark, I know youโre not a shy lover.โ You sit up just enough to reach down and lift the hockey sweater up and over your head. Underneath, youโve got a black lace unlined bra, filled out only by the weight of your breasts, and itโs absolutely sinful. โTouch me like you mean it.โ
โJesus fucking Christ, this is one hell of a surprise,โ he rasps as he grabs your tits through the fabric, a rough sting buzzing through your body. The sight of his hands against the lace flips the switch in his mind and heโs hunting for blood in the water. โI didnโt know you owned anything black.โ
As he pinches your nipples, mean and certain, the fabric of the lace adding a scratchy friction, you gasp, โItโs a special occasion.โ
โYeah?โ His hands run down toward your thighs, kneading the thickness of your waist and hips with a greed that approaches true obsession. You lose the ability to think when he bends down and bites the side of your waist, his teeth quickly becoming less and less gentle as your moans get louder and louder. โWhatโs so special?โ
You can only whimper as he roughly manhandles you upwards so that he can unhook your bra, using only one hand. Fucking surgeons. All you can think about is what else those hands of his can do. Youโve noticed how thick his fingers are a million times and now you might actually get to feel them the way you want.
Brendon can see the lust laid bare over you, chest rising and falling faster, eyes wide and waiting, skin prickled with goosebumps. Hooking his fingers beneath the edges of your panties and pulling them down, he teases, โOut of words now, pretty girl?โ
You take five seconds to breathe, swallow hard, and order, โTake your clothes off.โ
He throws his head back and grins. โGood choice of words.โ
While you prop yourself on your elbows for a better view, Brendon steps off the bed and tugs his shirt off first. He even does that thing buff guys do where he pulls it off by the back, his arm muscles offensively large as he reveals his abs. His muscles are less defined than they are sturdy, built not like an Abercrombie model but more like a lumberjack or, yโknow, a fridge. The way his obliques cut down into his hips is downright pornographic.
You let out a long breath. โJesus fucking Christ.โ
Perfectly and completely aware, he gives you a hunky grin. โWhat? Something wrong?โ
You bite your lower lip and physically try to stop yourself from staring, but you just keep failing. Because heโs your boyfriend. Sitting on the edge of the bed now, gradually drawing closer to him like a magnet, you attempt to tease, โAre you always this much of a cocky bastard about your hot bod?โ
โMy hot bod?โ His hands go to his belt and he slowly removes it. Then, once heโs stepped out of his jeans and youโre blinded by the outline of his, yes, proportionally long and thick cock against his black boxer briefs, he says, โYeah, I always am.โ
Eyes greedily drinking down every inch of his body and imagining all the ways you could play with it, you manage to mumble out, โYou should be.โ
God, he even makes taking off his underwear hot. It must be those damn thighs. Or the everything else. With your eyes trained squarely on his fat cock, mouth actually watering, Brendon steps toward and lifts your chin. โLike what you see, princess?โ
With that same confident smirk on his lips, he takes your small hand and wraps it around his shaft. Suddenly you get the whole โbeer-can-sized-dickโ thing youโve read in way too much erotica because you canโt close your hand around his girth. โOh.โ
โWhat? Bigger than you thought? You intimidated?โ
โHoney, I think everyone youโve ever met knows you have a big dick.โ Your eyes flick up to his playfully. โAnd Iโm definitely not intimidated.โ
โReally?โ
โYouโve never intimidated me. Not like you do everyone else.โ
โYeah, thatโs why Iโm so into you.โ As you smile coyly, Brendon thrusts between your fingers, watching every miniscule change in your expression โ which is rapidly growing less patient. He cups your cheek with his hand and asks, โWant a taste?โ
You open your mouth. Obedient, immediate. When his tip touches your tongue, you eagerly lap up a sticky drop of precum and then take him between your lips. Brendon has to grip your headboard hard to tolerate the sight of you sucking him with such a precious, adoring, sweet look in your eyes. It feels like youโre thanking him with your mouth, making the prettiest damn noises for him to memorize and play on repeat.
When you lift your hand to gently tug and roll his balls, Brendon hangs his head and groans, loud and low, gravelly in a way that tickles the back of your mind. โFuck, baby, thatโs- thatโs perfect.โ Your happy hum in reply makes his toes curl into the carpet. โJesus, you drive me crazy, you know that? Iโve never been this obsessed with someone.โ
You pull off him and beam, lips shiny and slightly swollen now. โReally?โ
Brendon pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you, easily maneuvering you so that your headโs back on the pillows and his hands are on either side of your face. He kisses you hard, claiming, and says, โItโs actually become a huge problem for me. Youโre all I can think about.โ
You giggle breathlessly and ask, โIs that a complaint?โ
โMmm. Thereโs that little laugh of yours. Thatโs how you got me,โ he groans before kissing you again. โI made some stupid goddamn joke during surgery and the whole team was exhausted but you laughed. Just like that. And I was done for.โ
You cover your face, embarrassed and delighted all at once, and remember, โThen I said you have a cutting-edge sense of humor.โ
โAnd I thought that was funny,โ he goes on with a fond chuckle. His hands have never stopped roaming over your body, playing with your breasts or digging into your hips. โYouโre so gorgeous and perfect I thought that was funny. You donโt even realize how deep youโve got your hooks in me, baby.โ
Biting your lip, you try to come up with something to say to match his sudden deep sweetness, but he stops you from being able to think at all. His lips drag down your neck, biting and kissing in equal measure until youโre squirming and bucking under him. Then, just beneath your ear, he growls, โCan I leave marks?โ
The sound you make is nothing short of pathetic. You clutch the back of his head, tugging his hair a bit to push his teeth against your neck, and whine, โPlease.โ
โYeah?โ Heโs grinning, now, but he canโt bear to let you see. โWant the whole world to know youโre mine now?โ You whimper and nod, tilting your head to the side to give him better access.ย He murmurs, โGood girl.โ
Fuck, youโre soaked.
As Brendon sucks hard over your pulse, branding you with the dark shape of his kiss, his right hand goes between your legs, pushing them apart. Two of his thick fingers dip between your folds to collect your wetness before smearing it over your clit. โAll this for me? Youโre easy to work up.โ
You laugh and tuck your forehead into his bicep. โAre you surprised?โ
โNot even a little,โ he chuckles. Making sure to kiss you and hold you as his fingers work firm circles around your clit, Brendon purrs, โIโve thought about all the sounds you must make a thousand times. How you must be so enthusiastic to be a good girl. Youโre so easy for me to read; I knew I could get you off better than anyone else.โ
You nod against his arm and moan when he finds just the right tempo on your clit, his fingers ridiculously skilled. โJust like that.โ
โWhatever you need, sweet girl,โ he assures, listening to you and keeping his fingers exactly the way they are. Methodical.
โBrendon,โ you gasp as your pussy pulses wantingly around nothing, โI really need you to fuck me.โ
โI love the enthusiasm, kitten, but Iโm not gonna hurt you,โ he replies simply. Reluctantly. Thereโs a tenderness to his voice that shouldnโt fit with his harsh attitude and masculine features, but it does. Itโs him, beneath everything he shows the rest of the world. He drops down between your legs and nuzzles loving kisses over your sensitive inner thighs, worshipping into your skin, โIf Iโm gonna fuck you to sleep tonight, then I canโt leave you sore from the first time. Let me make you cum before Iโm inside you, kitten. Can you be good and do that?โ
With your eyebrows knitted together and sweat on your brow, you nod and whine, โIโll try.โ
โThatโs all I ask,โ he tells you. Itโs insane that a man being offensively cocky with all those smirks and chuckles is so hot. He leans back, sitting between your legs, and begins to plunge his fingers inside of you. Just his two middle fingers have to be as thick as any dildo youโve used before. He bends at the waist so he can keep biting and sucking on your body, the most brutal on your nipples but sure to get ample coverage over your waist and stomach and hips. When he feels you clamping down tight around him, the pleasure so much you canโt come up with any response besides your bodyโs natural reactions, he teases lightly, โCareful, baby, my hands are my livelihood.โ
Eyes large and glassy, you breathe, โSorry about that.โ
Brendonโs thumb goes to your clit and your walls tighten again. This time, he doesnโt tease you. He works your clit intently, trying to find what heโd found before, and doesnโt rest until heโs right there. Your delicious gasp gives him all the cue he needs. With his thumb flat and firm, he rubs your clit in time with his fingers curling back toward himself. His eyes focus on your expression, each detail, and heโs addicted to your every sound and twitch.
โThere you go,โ he praises while your pussy tightens up slowly, threatening to snap into sparkles. โThatโs right. Just trust me. All I want is to make you feel good.
Your orgasm bursts like waves against a hull, building and building until it crashes over you, rocking your gravity and stealing your breath. Brendonโs there with you through it, his blue eyes a lighthouse, his stupid smirk your shore. His free hand holds you down by the hip as he lets you enjoy the fluttery aftershocks, not quite forcing you into overstimulation but not letting up until youโve had as much as you can take.
When youโre finally completely breathless and satiated, Brendon slowly withdraws his fingers and then licks them clean. He leans down for a moment and laps at your inner thighs, tasting your tart juices and salty skin. Your hips buck instinctively when he presses one tiny kiss to your clit and then laughs at your reaction, breath ghosting down your hot cunt. With his slick-wet hand, he fists his cock and asks, โHow do you want me, sweetheart?โ
You take a few seconds to think and admire the view before asking, โCan I ride you? Whenever Iโve fantasized about us having sex, thatโs what Iโm doing.โ
โYou can do literally whatever you want to me, baby,โ he reminds you as he reclines on the bed next to you. He steals one more kiss from you before you start moving to your knees, collecting your balance. โWhat exactly do you fantasize about?โ
โWell, I donโt know if youโve noticed,โ you reply as you climb into his lap, hands going straight to grabbing his pecs with your nails digging deliciously into the flesh, โbut you have these giant fucking tits Iโd like to fondle.โ Then, as he laughs, you rub your sloppy cunt up and down his shaft, watching his eyes close and hearing his breath go shaky with lust. โI wanna see your arms when you hold onto my hips and thrust up into me. Wanna feel how strong your thighs are underneath me.โ
Brendon shakes his head and snickers, โWow, I had no idea how much you were going to objectify my muscles.โ
โShut up; yes, you did.โ
You roll your eyes and sink down on him, nice and slow, savoring the way he has to resist slamming up to meet you.
He groans, hands finding purchase on the curve of your waist, โYeah, youโre right.โ
Youโre completely forgotten how to talk. The stretch of him is divine. Everything youโd imagined and then some. You have to be careful not to get too eager too fast because his length is definitely enough to bruise your cervix if you arenโt gentle with yourself while your pussy adjusts to him. Which is sad, considering the only thing youโve ever wanted in life all of a sudden is to bounce on Park the Sharkโs huge cock until you pass out.
Instead, you slowly rock back and forth, your hands flush on his pecs, with your eyes pinched shut and your mouth falling open. Brendon reaches up to hold your chin, forcing you to open your eyes, and checks softly, โToo much? We can slow down and-โ
โShut up,โ you order breathily. He smiles, puts his hands behind his head a moment, and enjoys the view of you being a tiny bit bossy. โFeels so fucking good, I promise. Not too much. Just- just- Jesus.โ
โWell, they do say he was hung.โ
Your laugh is addictively adorable, sounding almost sleepy from the enormous effort of acclimating to him. โYouโre so awful.โ
Dragging his hands down and resting them on your ass, he coos back, โAnd youโre sooooo into it.โ
When he gives you a quick upward thrust, your response turns into a squeak, โYeah.โ
From there, Brendon helps you out. He knows heโs not exactly an easy man to take in this position โ beyond the size of his cock, his thighs and glutes are so well-developed that your knees donโt even reach the mattress on either side of his hips โ so he holds you in place and rolls his hips up into yours, slow and precise.
Once he can tell youโre getting comfortable, breaths easy and moans tumbling out again, he murmurs, โHow about you touch yourself?โ
Eyebrows knitted together, you sigh, โAlready so much, Bren.โ
Purposefully missing the point, he sighs back, โI guess I can do it for you, princess.โ
When his thumb goes to your clit, your nails dig into his chest. Mean pink half moons rise in their wake, but you canโt stop yourself โ and he doesnโt mind. So stretched out, your pussy pulses more than it clamps down, each contraction a fluttery thing thatโs somehow more intense than the last. Heโs grinning to himself as he feels your orgasm approaching fast. Youโre so relaxed with him that he can control your pleasure with the ease of a decades-long lover. Heโs going to have to teach you to be less trusting, maybe teach you to fight, but right now all he wants is for you to yield to him completely.
You cum with a long, drawn-out whine, sweat shiny on your hairline, and Brendon has to take over completely as your thighs twitch and falter. Itโs impossible to hold yourself up through the roiling pleasure that overtakes you in a deluge. Your wetness drips down his balls and onto your bed and youโre not sure youโve ever been this soaked from how much a partnerโs turned you on and worked you up.
โAw, my sweet baby,โ he purrs as you fight to stay upright, your thighs burning for relief in the wake of your second orgasm, โtrying so hard to keep up.โ
While you let out tiny, cute whimpers, Brendon pulls out slowly and stands up, ignoring your complaining whine at the lack of contact. He goes to your bedside table and muses, โLetโs see what we have here.โ Your cheeks burn as he thumbs through your admittedly maybe-too-ample sex toy collection. Taking out your baby blue silicone mini wand, Brendon grins. โHot, young, single doctor โ knew Iโd find some goodies in here.โ
Youโre totally gone by now, anything but your desire to be with him gone out the window, and he can tell. Itโs his favorite thing in the world. When he says, โget on your knees for me,โ your brain is so mush for him that you do it without a single thought or word, presenting your ass beautifully with a placid smile on your lips.
Brendon yanks your hips back so that he can stand at the foot of your bed โ which means he can use all his strength to handle you. Lining up the thick, angry red tip, he tenderly rubs your ass and says, โTell me if you want more.โ
All you can do is nod. Usually heโd press you for words just to hear you beg, but the eye contact you make is full of so much pleading that thereโs no need for further clarity. You really are so sensitive; there are tears of pleasure and need brimming at your waterline.
โDonโt worry that sweet little head of yours,โ he practically growls as his cock slowly fills you deeper than heโd been able to get without being in total control, โIโm gonna take care of you, princess. Gonna keep this pretty pussy stuffed. Gonna make sure you get everything you need. I promise.โ
Gripping your pillow tight as you once again adjust to his thickness, you nod and sniffle, โThank you, Bren.โ
โThere she is,โ he teases as he starts to slam into you. Each time he bottoms out, it comes with a weak, needy cry. โThatโs my sensitive girl. Love that about you.โ
โThat Iโm a crybaby?โ
He picks up speed at the word and all it means to him. Youโre never prettier than with tears running down your cheeks, making your eyes shiny and your lips wobbly. โYou know how much of a confidence boost it is making you cry because of how good you feel?โ
โReally?โ
โYeah, princess, I fucking love it.โ Brendon flicks the vibrating wand onto its lowest setting and reaching one huge arm around your body to press it to your clit. Your corresponding moan turns into a screaming sob, loud and messy and violently sexy. Itโs completely overwhelming and consuming. The way your face contorts from the intensity sends Brendonโs thrusts into overdrive, almost putting all his force into it now. As sweat falls from his forehead onto your back, he urges, โLet it out. Let it all out for me. I wanna hear how good Iโm making you feel.โ
And you weep.
The catharsis of his cock christening you takes over. Youโve cried during sex before, yeah (of course), but this is different. It feels like pure relief and connection. Your mind is totally present in your body, feeling every single place of contact where Brendonโs sweating skin slides against yours. The vibrator between your legs is making you shake in his arms, but you trust him to hold you up, to give you what you need, to take you through exactly what he wants to give you.
โCโmon, honey, focus, you can do one more, I promise,โ Brendon grunts when he starts to feel your pussy weakly squeezing him again. He didnโt think he could get you to this point your first time together, but, if he can, heโs not going to stop.
He leans over your body, mounting you now, primal and animalistic, and wraps his elbow around your neck. The gesture pulls your cunt tight to him and snaps your head back, forcing you to take a deep breath that lights your brain up. Tears slip constantly out of your eyes and Brendonโs drunk on the sniffles and whimpers and moans that choke out of your thickened throat. You drunkenly kiss his arm as it muffles over your mouth.
Then you bite him.
Brendonโs hips stutter and his balls tighten up. You bite him again and again. And youโre not screwing around with it. Your teeth are ravenous on his flush, cutting in nearly enough to draw blood. Youโre so thoughtless that youโre just going for whateverโs been put in front of your mouth; itโs irrelevant that itโs your boyfriendโs flesh.
โThere it is,โ Brendon groans, the pain of your bites sending him spiraling out into a new height of pleasure. โI can feel it coming on. Donโt you dare hold back, baby. Show me how much you can take. Give me another one and Iโll fill you up. I know whatโs what you want, isnโt it?โ
You nod without releasing his arm from your mouth. Drool spills from the sides of your lips, mixing with your tears, and youโre hurtling into the orgasm more than itโs welling up within you. The thought that really does it, though, isnโt Brendonโs encouragement or the vibrator unrelentingly stimulating your clit. No. Itโs the idea that Brendonโs going to cum inside of you. Even on birth control, itโs a sign that heโs claiming you completely, making you his, being totally naked with you in every sense.
Bliss blows your brains out like a volcano finally giving into the pressure. Brendon holds you tight against him with his free hand, so tight that his thrusts are short and deep. The final few, he grinds into you, totally enveloped in your cunt, letting himself feel each millimeter as it grabs down on him and milks it out. When his cum coats your walls, both of you collapse onto the bed into gasping breaths.
Brendon kisses and kisses your shoulders while he goes soft inside of your pussy, gently pulling your chew toy away and shaking it out because it fucking kills in the most satisfying way possible. He makes a mental note to buy himself a long-sleeve to wear to work as he admires the egregious display of total horny thoughtlessness from the cutesy, angelic doctor.
He sits up and then murmurs, rubbing your back softly, โIโm gonna carry you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up, okay?โ
You nod lazily, eyes half-lidded. You make no effort to help him, which only makes him smile to himself and shake his head. Heโd do anything for you already. Cradling you like a baby, he pushes open the bathroom door with his foot and hits the light with his elbow. Heโs absolutely done for. Setting you down on the toilet, he orders, โGo pee, baby. No UTIs allowed.โ
Under normal circumstances, you definitely wouldnโt be able to pee in front of your boyfriend and you would definitely be mortified by the mere thought. But youโre so relaxed. Your whole brain is like a nice cozy hot tub, warm and bubbly and nothing to worry about. So you do as he instructs without question, some part of your brain acknowledging that heโs correct.
Brendon leans down on his knees, a posture that would be condescending in most situations but is nothing but adoring right now, and suggests, โNow, you said you were gonna cook, but how does delivery on my tab sound? We can get pizza.โ
You give a hazy smile and nod. โThatโs so nice, Brenny.โ
โWeโre gonna have to talk about that nickname,โ he chuckles, booping the tip of your nose.
You pout out your lower lip. โIโm gonna call you whatever I want.โ
โYeah, alright, tough guy.โ
โMmm.โ You lean up to kiss him. โGood boy.โ
Brendon laughs and then stands up to fiddle with the handles of your shower until heโs happy with the temperature. Then he guides you to your feet and brings you under the water, not too hot or too cold on your over-sensitive skin. Youโre glad you went for the house with the rain shower when you moved, both of you fitting comfortably beneath the stream at the same time. For a while, he just holds you, hands roaming up and down your back, as he kisses the top of your head.
โYouโre so beautiful,โ he murmurs quietly, barely audible above the running water. โYouโre gonna turn me into such a softie.โ
You giggle, โOr youโre gonna make me a big mean gym bro.โ
Brendon shakes his head and reaches for your shampoo. โMaybe we stick to our current roles.โ
โI think they suit us,โ you agree as he squirts some into his palm and orders you to turn around. With his fingers working devotion into your scalp, you hum gently under your breath and trust him to hold you up. During the course of the shower, you gradually come back to life. Once youโre sudsing his abs with your lufah, maybe being a touch too thorough by going over every spot with your hands, you lilt,ย โYou fucked my brains out. I didnโt know that was actually a thing.โ
โI did set a high bar for myself,โ he concedes with a self-satisfied laugh, โbut Iโm guessing itโs only gonna get better from here.โ
You stand on your toes and kiss him. โDoes this mean weโre doing paperwork when we go back to the hospital?โ
โI love paperwork,โ he tells you, mock serious. He chuckles and whistles, โMy first time to HR for something besides another doctor filing a complaint because I hurt their precious feelings by ensuring my patients get the highest quality care possible.โ
โBig bad scary Park the Shark,โ you agree as you turn off the water. You gently brush his cheek and coo, โMy softie.โ
Brendon rolls his eyes affectionately, shakes out his hair, and steps out, grabbing a towel and wrapping you up in it before taking one for himself. With a towel hanging low on his hips, heโs scrumptious enough to have your mind wandering toward round two even though your body wouldnโt even consider cooperating for a few more hours.
You head over to the mirror for your moisturizer and catch a glimpse of yourself with clear eyes for the first time since your sex brain turned off. Looking at the myriad of bite marks littered over your body, the flesh swollen and indented, you laugh, โJesus, now I know why they call you Shark.โ
โYeah?โ Park bares his left forearm to you, the one that had been in your face while he destroyed your cunt, to show off an absolute minefield of neon pink bites, some deep enough that theyโre bruising already. Your eyes widen with guilt, but he quickly yanks you close and kisses you hard, nothing but lust and gratitude on his lips. He nips your neck and teases, โTheyโre gonna have to start calling you Sharkette.โ
Support me on ko-fi if you'd like!
I fear Iโve fallen for the Park the Shark propagandaโฆ











