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“Here’s the thing,” Samira says, definitely not slurring slightly. “Say it doesn’t have to be something serious.”
“Sinabi ko yun,” Princess hisses to Santos.
“I know you’ve told her that,” Trinity yawns, fussing with her beer label. “We’ve all told her that. Like a million times.”
“Well, serious is kind of the only real way it…it’s worth it, y’know?” Samira says. Distantly, she knows she should be embarrassed at how earnest she’s being. She’s not not drunk. But she’s also sober enough—and grown enough—to know the bar’s emptied of all but her most understanding and experienced coworkers, and after the events of that nightmare shift, (not to mention this stuff with her mom) she kind of needs to get it out. Plus, these gossips are all always pushing for Samira to share, especially—
“What’s…worth it?” McKay returns with another seltzer, her warm expression reassuring Samira that even sober doctors don’t think she’s overstepping.
Not that Cassie would have a right to be shocked at that, of all people.
“Sex,” Samira says bluntly. “If the person doesn’t know me, if it’s not serious, then it’s…just some guy pawing at you.” She frowns. Trinity and Princess aren’t trying very hard to hide their laughter.
“You gotta find the right paw na lang, that’s it,” Princess tells her. “As long as it’s attached to a hot guy who knows what he’s doing—”
“But how do you know before you try it?” Samira says, exasperated. “Historically, my one night stands have been…disappointing. So how do I get what I need without getting serious?”
Princess starts chattering about dating rules that sound like something out of the Legally Blonde movie, how you can assess a guy’s aptitude in bed via various behaviors, time of birth, etc.
“I pity straight girls. That does sound like a fucking nightmare.” Trinity yawns again. “Okay, I’m out. Farm Boy’s got us doing pre-shift breakfasts together these days and it’s actually kind of nice. See you laters, ER-gators.”
Samira returns her nod and small smile, but bristles nonetheless.
“I’m not straight,” she tells her beer. “Just because I haven’t done more than kissed anyone who’s not a cis guy since college doesn’t mean I’m straight.”
Princess smacks the table. “I knew it!” she crows. “Santos owes me $20.”
“Serves her right for assuming,” Samira snorts. She shakes her head, ears growing hot.
McKay cuffs her on the shoulder. She steps into Samira’s light, her chain glinting around her throat.
“Trinity probably thinks she knows every queer girl—and girl-adjacent queer—in the Pittsburgh area,” she says, smiling. Her eyes are warm and bright. “Not all of us need to proclaim it.”
Oh.
Oh.
”Or sleep with coworkers and make it everybody’s business,” Princess cuts in. “I’m talking about Santos and Garcia, of course,” she adds, sipping from her drink with wide, innocent eyes.
Horribly, Samira’s blush spreads to the back of her neck.
McKay purses her lips in a tight smile.
“Duly noted, Princess,” she says, parking her seltzer on the bar. “All right. Guess I’ll call it a night too. Get some good rest, you guys.”
“You too,” Samira says.
She sits blinking at her drink for another moment. Something is occurring to her, something that seems really obvious.
Something she could easily overthink.
Something she really, really doesn’t want to. As long as she’s reading the situation right.
“I…think I’m gonna go too,” Samira says, counting out enough to settle her tab.
“Good night, Dr. Mohan,” Princess singsongs, already making eyes at a trio of youngish looking guys at the pool table. “Hope you get what you need.”
For the first time she can remember, Samira Mohan deliberately ignores a nurse.
She walks outside, heart pounding in her chest, her ears, her cunt. Her needy, tipsy, unshaven, too-long-untouched cunt.
Cassie McKay’s standing outside, flipping through an app on her phone.
She smiles before she looks up, and Samira knows she’s read this right. Studiously forcing her anxious mind to quiet, she steps into McKay’s space.
“I don’t want,” Samira starts, before realizing with some horror she doesn’t know exactly how she wants to finish the sentence. To fuck this up, to make things awkward at work, to disappoint you.
McKay smiles, eyes crinkling. She’s so pretty. It’s not like Samira hadn’t noticed before, she’s very conscious of the multiple attractive coworkers in the department, but she files away that level of consciousness deep, deep inside of her, buried within layers upon layers of professionalism, focus, and self-protection.
But this isn’t going to be a bad thing, she can already tell. She doesn’t need to overthink this. They are adults. They know each other. They get each other, well enough at least. How many times has Cassie told her exactly what she wants? How many times has this very thought crashed up against the barriers of Samira’s mind? How many times have all the gossips in the department told both of them separately to just fucking get some?
“I don’t want, either,” McKay says. “How about you tell me what you do want?”
Samira opens her mouth, but McKay raises a finger. On anyone else, it would be condescending. Here and now, Samira finds it numbingly sexy. Relaxing, actually, to have someone else take the reins for once. Someone she actually knows is capable.
“Not like, in life, Samira,” McKay says, smiling, teasing. “I mean tonight. Tell me what you want, tonight. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Samira says, grateful for a direct question to answer.
McKay moves closer. Samira’s just a bit taller than her, making her gaze up through her lashes. Why is that so hot? Fuck, Samira really, really needs—
“Do you want to do that?” McKay asks, less teasing now, looking at Samira clear-eyed.
Samira’s so hot all over. Her body knows this is really happening, even if her mind is still catching up in disbelief.
“Yes,” Samira says.
McKay smiles. A different smile than she ever gives at work, though not too dissimilar from when she’s nailed a tough procedure.
It’s clear that despite the dry spell she kept talking about, McKay’s more experienced than Samira. It’s daunting, but also freeing. Like there’s no expectation. Samira didn’t ask for this. She has nothing to prove.
“My place isn’t far,” McKay says. “If that works.”
“That works.”
It’s no time at all before McKay’s locking her apartment door behind them.
“Can I get you a water or something?” she asks, and Samira could probably do with some hydration, but if she has to hold coworker-mode alongside this tension for another moment she might pass the fuck out.
“Later?” she says, trying not to fidget with her shirt hem, feeling herself fraying apart.
McKay meets her eye and Samira gasps, audibly. Cassie’s warm gaze has deepened to something hotter, fiercer. She looks at Samira like she’s never looked at her in the hospital. Cocks her head, looks her up and down. Grins crookedly, biting her lip.
“Later,” she agrees, shaking her head, and then Samira’s crushing her in a kiss, hungrier and more desperate than she knew she could be.
Samira gasps again as Cassie’s tongue slips into her mouth. She’s never been with someone this femme, someone almost exactly her height, and Cassie’s chest pressing into hers drives her fucking insane. She’s pulsing so hot, she knows her panties are fucking soaked.
Cassie McKay is a goddamn good kisser. Either that or Samira’s only ever really been with mostly shit guys, or both things are true. Also Samira’s still tipsy, barely so at this point but it probably serves to make Cassie’s movements feel even more expert by comparison.
It doesn’t matter, though. There’s no need for comparison. She’s in McKay’s apartment, she can feel what she’s doing to the other woman.
“I know we’re not making this like, personal,” McKay says, slotting her thigh between Samira’s, “but I do need to tell you how fucking gorgeous you are. You must know that. But it feels wrong to fuck you without saying it.”
“Mmph,” Samira manages, mumbling into the kiss. Her mouth falls open as McKay guides her to rock against her thigh, feeling filthy, caught in the rough and helpless thrall of it. “You too, Cassie,” she says, though it comes out mostly a whine. “So fucking pretty.”
McKay grins at her. Hair disheveled, chain askew, looking like every fuckboy gay girl Samira ever privately wanted in college and med school. She presses her thigh up. Samira’s going to have to throw these panties away.
“Thanks, Samira,” she says. Her hand comes to Samira’s chest and Samira bucks into it, head falling back as McKay gropes her. “Can I take you to bed?”
“Yes,” Samira says, and then she groans as McKay picks her up, wraps Samira’s legs around her, and carries her to the bedroom.
“Oh,” Samira says, as McKay kisses down her bare throat. “Oh fuck.”
McKay’s bed is soft and comfy. Her touch is confident, adult, sexy as hell.
Already, Samira’s eyes prickle with tears. Her body is so accustomed to panic, stress, pressure. Accustomed to following the instruction of her brain, not that of her hormones, her impulses. The surrender feels almost overwhelming.
She’s going to cum the fucking moment McKay touches her clit, which somehow feels impolite.
“Relax, yeah?” McKay says, smiling like she can read her mind. “I’ve got you.”
Samira moans, tugging McKay into a kiss. They’re in nothing but bras and panties now, and her skin is so soft and warm on Samira’s, save the reassuring prickle of her unshaven legs.
Samira rolls her body up, slots her thigh between McKay’s this time. McKay moans for her in perfect return, grinding down onto her, rutting with all the pent-up need she’s been venting about.
“Oh God,” Cassie gasps, losing half her composure. She bites her lip and rocks herself on Samira’s offered thigh, wet through her panties.
“Holy fuck,” Samira pants. She reaches to unhook McKay’s bra, squeezes her sweet tits, thumbs her pink nipples. “Fuck, yeah. Yes.” and then Cassie McKay’s squirming, sobbing, twitching, cumming right there on Samira’s thigh.
Heady power floods Samira’s nervous system. It’s not like Cassie’s doing her a favor, she has something to offer too. That fact alone does more for Samira’s confidence than a week’s worth of praise at work, at least.
And then McKay’s kissing her, grinning wildly. Stripping her remaining clothes off, tugging at her hair, and all thoughts of work leave Samira’s mind.
Cassie takes one of Samira’s nipples in her mouth and sinks two fingers into Samira’s bush to rub her clit at the same time, and Samira cries out.
“Oh my God,” Cassie whines, licking her tits obscenely. “You’re so fucking wet, Samira.”
Samira can’t talk anymore. She bucks helplessly into Cassie’s hand, twitching at every pass of her tongue.
Cassie strokes her torturously slow. Laps at her breasts, her throat, the shell of her ear, while her clever fingers part Samira’s pussy lips. She alternates her touch, ghosting over her clit, then tugging at her boldly. Samira writhes, time going blurry as Cassie toys with her, caught in the exquisite torment of being so, so close.
“Do you want something?” McKay asks. Samira whimpers, parting her thighs, chest heaving. She’s clawing at the bedspread, desperate now. “Tell me,” Cassie says, her voice a soft, commanding murmur that makes Samira’s dripping cunt clench on nothing.
“Please eat my pussy,” Samira says, tears spilling down her cheeks, and at that Cassie doesn’t wait a moment longer. She swears and pushes Samira’s legs back, settling between her thighs—and then, with a blazing look, she presses two fingers hard and deep inside, flicking her tongue over Samira’s trembling clit.
Samira cums harder than she has in her entire life.
She wails, clenching hard on Cassie’s fingers, thrashing helplessly. Cassie follows her movements, licking her diligently through it while Samira spirals through galaxies of pleasure she hadn’t known existed. It keeps going, what she would write off as aftershocks blossoming into orgasm after orgasm with the expert press of Cassie’s fingers, the merciless work of her tongue.
“Holy fuck,” Samira says, when she can speak again. Cassie raises her head at last. Samira blushes as she meets her eye. Cassie’s face is a flushed shiny mess from Samira’s pussy, even hotter somehow now.
“You liked that?”
“Yes,” Samira says, half-laughing. But then Cassie’s kissing her, messy and hot, and Samira stops laughing.
“You cum pretty,” Cassie murmurs, nibbling Samira’s lower lip. “You ever been strapped?”
Samira swallows hard, blinking, heart pounding in her chest and her throbbing cunt again.
“Yeah,” she says, leaving out the fact that it had been decidedly mid. “Long time ago.”
Cassie smiles again, foxlike, eager, thumbing Samira’s nipple. “Any interest?”
“Okay,” Samira says, trying and failing to conceal her eagerness.
“Good,” Cassie says. “One sec.”
“Okay,” Samira says again, somewhat hysterical.
Samira ends up on her knees, McKay fucking her through at least three more orgasms as she sobs into a pillow that smells faintly of lavender. She cums til her fingers slip over her sopping clit, McKay’s long, curved strap relentless against her g-spot. She’s sweaty and sore all over, as likely to bruise from the press of McKay’s fingers on her hips as she is the hard thrusts against her ass.
McKay presses her face into the pillow and reaches around her to twist her nipple, and Samira cums again, slow and aching, squirming in exquisite, decadent pleasure.
Presently, shakily, Samira thrusts a hand back. McKay eases out of her with a chuckle, but Samira doesn’t let her go far. She shoves Cassie up against her own headboard, nuzzling needily into her throat as she climbs into her lap.
“Oh, yeah,” McKay says, biting her lip. She brushes Samira’s sweaty hair back from her face, her other hand guiding Samira back down onto the strap. “That’s it. Good girl. Take what you need.”
Samira moans, curling into her, grinding slow and deep, working the strap-on against her g-spot hard enough to maybe, finally, satisfy her.
Samira’s never liked anything good girl adjacent before, but it hits different, coming from McKay. She is a good girl, damn it. She is so fucking good. She deserves this.
McKay bats her hand away and replaces it with her own. Samira gasps, bracing herself with both hands against the headboard, grinding down on the strap, thighs squeezing, as Cassie McKay gently strokes her clit to one final, tremendous wave of pleasure.
Samira sobs again, twitching on Cassie’s lap, riding it out. She needed this. She needed this so bad.
As McKay cards her fingers through Samira’s hair, though, and Samira regains some (albeit shaky) control over her body—her freshly fucked body, which feels better to inhabit than Samira can remember—she climbs off McKay’s lap, feeling the need to live up to being a good girl one more way tonight.
“You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Samira says, already working the harness off McKay’s legs.
She settles between McKay’s bare thighs and breathes her in, a hot and perfect calm flooding through her consciousness.
“Holy fucking shit,” McKay wails, and Samira goes electric with confidence. “Oh my—God.”
It has been too long. Samira needed this, too. She opens her mouth against Cassie’s cunt, fucking her tongue inside, thumb teasing her clit as she does. Licks her long and hard, reveling in the taste of her pussy, almost losing herself in playing with her. She sucks McKay’s pussy lips into her mouth, tugging. She drags the flat of her tongue against Cassie again and again, high on how completely she can take this hyper-competent woman apart. By the time Samira slips two, then three fingers inside, Cassie’s tight and thrashing, gasping her name and clenching through orgasm after orgasm.
Fuck, Samira really, really loves being queer.
Later, McKay offers her a glass of water and a pair of fresh cotton underwear to wear home, given Samira’s own are a damp, sticky mess. She kisses her gently on the cheek and smiles as she sends Samira home in a taxi.
Not too long after that, at work, Dr. Robby makes a comment as he and Samira exit a patient’s room.
”Nice work, Dr. Mohan!” he says in genuine appreciation. “You’ve been extra on top of things lately, I have to say. You too, Dr. McKay,” he adds, as the two of them pass Cassie at the nurse’s station. “Whatever it is you two have been doing, keep at it. I think the whole department’s doing better because of it.”
“Can do, captain,” McKay says, flashing Samira a smile Robby doesn’t notice. Samira tightens her lips, but privately preens.
“I bet,” says Princess, who Samira could swear had not been standing there a moment ago.
“What’s that?” Perlah asks.
“Nothing,” Samira and McKay say at the same time.
Robby throws his hands up in surrender.
“Hey, we don’t question good things around here. Right?”
“Right,” McKay agrees.
Samira shakes her head fondly and strides toward her next patient with a small smile on her face.