Work Text:
Trinity’s shift passed as usual. The waiting room seemed never-ending. Discharge 5 patients, another 15 patients check in. Admitted patients waiting in hallways for their assigned room upstairs. Confused and agitated patients screaming into the void. For most people, the constant chaos of the emergency department is overwhelming and overstimulating.
For Trinity, it was nothing new to her. It was an environment that was comfortable for her.
It had been awhile since she had worked a “good” trauma. The kind that tested her skills. The kind that gave her an adrenaline rush. Plenty of falls, motor vehicle accidents, heck even gunshot wounds got boring after awhile.
30 minutes before shift change, she heard the page.
“Level 1 trauma going to trauma room 2, ETA 10 minutes.”
The page overhead repeated a few times to ensure the appropriate people heard it.
Trinity was close to the communications area, the area where a nurse takes calls from EMS and finds placement for those patients. The communications nurse was responsible for what went back to a room and what went to the waiting room.
She saw Perlah at the communications desk, typing furiously on her computer to place the EMS bed hold as quickly as possible.
“What’s coming in?” Trinity asked Perlah while she typed.
“46 year old male involved in a Motorcycle accident. Crashed going 70+ mph, separated from the motorcycle, and hit the median. Vitals are unstable. Probably going to need blood. Last BP was 66/30, heart rate in the 130’s”. Perlah sighs, “At least he was wearing a helmet. Apparently it was intact too.”
Trinity raised her eyebrows when she heard the EMS phone go off again.
Perlah pressed the button to answer, “This is PTMC, go ahead.”
“This is Pittsburgh City Medic 21 with patient update.” The voice crackled over the speaker, sounding significantly out of breath. Trinity could hear the sirens in the background of the call.
“Same truck that’s bringing in the motorcycle accident,” she mumbled to Trinity. She pressed the button to respond, “Go ahead with patient update.”
“That level 1 trauma is now a traumatic arrest. Officially lost pulses about a minute ago, attempting to obtain ROSC right now.” The speaker crackled again. Before Perlah could respond, the line crackled again, “Officially pulling into your ambulance bay now. See you soon!”
For most people, that news would make their stomach sink. For Trinity, she felt her heart rate pick up and gave her a sudden burst of energy that had nothing to do with the Red Bull she chugged several hours ago.
Trinity started walking towards Trauma 2 to prepare. A gaggle of people sat directly outside the room, already prepared. The respiratory therapist stood next to the glidescope and a ventilator to prepare for intubation if needed. XRAY sat outside the room with their portable machines. Jessie and Donnie already had the Belmont set up to start a massive transfusion protocol as soon as possible. Dana stood off to the side, talking into her charge phone that never seemed to stop going off. There was an IV tote sitting on the counter, already prepared to obtain access if needed. Princess stood at the computer in the room, prepared to chart. Robby stood by the room with his arms crossed with Whitaker nearby. All members of the team had on the appropriate PPE, a thin gown and plastic goggles.
“Whitaker, you take airway. Santos you’re on primary survey,” Robby’s gruff voice said, dripping with exhaustion.
An ED tech burst into the room with a large blue box slung over her shoulder by a velco strap, clearly out of breath from running. “Bloods here,” she said, placing the blue box next to the Belmont.
Dana hung up her phone with a quiet click and turned to the tech, “Get ready to run, kid. Probably going to need a lot more blood than this.” The tech nodded, already prepared to sprint.
Trinity heard the elevator open nearby at the same time as the EMS bay doors opening. The patient rolled in with a medic straddling them on the stretcher performing CPR
With perfect timing, Garcia appeared, showing up just in time to hear report. Trinity tried not to let the appearance of the woman distract her. But that was challenging when, against her own will, Trinity’s brain flashed back to this morning. A vision of Garcia waking up in Trinity’s bed, hair mussed and eyes blinking sleepily after a very productive night. Her brain then flashed to the shower they shared together this morning that resulted in both of them almost being late. Trinity shook her head, willing the thoughts away. Focus on the patient, she thought to herself until her eyes mistakenly met Garcia’s. Garcia was looking at her with a glint in her eyes and a ghost of a smile, as if she was also thinking of the two of them rolling between the sheets together.
The two of them had been sleeping together for over 6 months, repeatedly toeing the line of a relationship, a line neither one of them seemed prepared to cross. What they both knew was that they had mindblowing sex and neither one of them wanted to stop. That was for certain.
Garcia’s eyes shifted to the paramedic as the team focused on moving the patient to the ER stretcher. “What do we got?”
Everyone jumped into action at the same time as the medics gave report.
“47 year old male involved in motorcycle collision, estimated to have been going 70+ mph when witnesses said he lost control and was separated from the bike. His body was flung against the median.”
Santos internally winces at the thought as she takes a quick listen to the patient’s lungs with her stethoscope as the RT bagged him while Whitaker intubates the patient at the head of the bed. The ER tech is frantically cutting the man’s clothes off and placing the patient on the monitor. Jesse and Donnie are competing to see who can get a bigger IV, when Donnie suddenly pulls away and pumps his fist. “Woot woot, got a 14g in the right forearm! Hand me that blood tubing and we can get this party started!”
Jesse hands over the blood tubing, which Donnie hooks directly up to the IV catheter. Blood is immediately dumped into the patient at a rate of 500 mL/minute. In less than a minute, Jesse is already spiking more bags of blood.
“Patient was initially hypotensive and tachycardic on scene. Initial GCS of 6. Was wearing a helmet that was found to be intact. Significant road rash to all extremities and suspected internal bleeding,” the medic continues, “Unknown medical history. We found his driver’s license in his pocket.”
Garcia snaps on her gloves with practiced ease. “Alright let’s do one gram of TXA, amp of calcium, and go ahead and activate MTP.”
Dana quickly places a call to blood bank and sends the ER tech back down to pick up more blood.
Robby speaks from the side of the stretcher, “Let’s do a quick pulse check while we got a second.”
Dana immediately places two fingers over the patient’s femoral artery.
At the same time, Whitaker triumphantly pulls the glidescope out of the patient’s mouth. “7.5 ET tube. 23 at the teeth!”
“No pulse,” Dana says grimly, “Continue CPR.”
“He’s got a tension pneumo, let’s prepare for a chest tube,” Santos says, already grabbing a scalpel to prepare.
“Santos, what are the signs of a tension pneumo?” Garcia questions as she steps to the left side of the bed.
The question was a no-brainer to Santos. “He’s got tracheal deviation, absent breath sounds on the right, and JVD.” She rattled off the signs like she was reciting the alphabet. Trauma was her bread and butter.
Garcia looks across the bed and nods approvingly. “Excellent, go ahead with chest tube insertion.” She glances at Princess, “Let’s get an atrium set up.” Princess nods
Santos bites back a smile at the praise and cuts into the side of the patient’s chest with a scalpel, immediately popping her finger in and shoving a 24 Fr tube in it’s place. Blood immediately started dumping out of the chest tube and onto the floor. Princess hands her the sterile end of the atrium tubing. Santos immediately cuts it to size and places it around the chest tube. Blood now neatly fills up the container instead of the floor. Within moments, the patient is already dumping out 500+ mL of blood.
Santos watches the blood rapidly drain out for a moment as she sutures in the chest tube. “He’s up to almost a liter of output already, he’s going to need an OR.”
“Let’s get some vital signs compatible with life before we consider OR,” Garcia says with mild amusement, preparing her own field. “Can someone get me a thoracotomy tray?”
Dana appears immediately with a small bedside table, a pair of sterile 7.0 gloves and a thoracotomy kit as if she was just waiting for the word.
Santos immediately became excited. Thoracotomys were somewhat rare in the ED, and it was one of the few times that she as a doctor had seen the inside of a patient. She had dissected cadavers in medical school, of course, maybe did one or two rotations in the OR for basic surgical cases, but seeing someone’s internal organs was not something she got to do often. In her excitement, Santos immediately circled to the other side of the bed where Garcia was at.
“Let’s hold compressions for a moment,” Garcia instructed the person on the patient’s chest.
With steady hands, Garcia put the scalpel to the patient’s skin and made a large cut. Santos watched over her shoulder as she cut through layers of muscle and adipose tissue. Once the cut was made and the chest cavity was exposed, Garcia reached for the rib spreader and placed it in between the ribs where she made her incision. Her movements were quick, but not hurried. Once it was placed, Garcia cranked the rib spreader, and Santos watched in fascination as the ribs separated and the patient’s heart and lungs came into view. There was a lot of blood present, but one thing that Santos immediately noticed was the patient’s heart twitching in a disorganized way, not in the usual lub dub way it was supposed to.
“Dr. Santos,” Garcia spoke without looking over her shoulder, “Come here and do cardiac massage. Hard to tell but looks like there is a large laceration to the superior vena cava and possibly to the pulmonary artery.”
Santos' eyes lit up and she barely managed to suppress a gasp. She had never gotten to touch a heart before. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d get the opportunity.
Without a second though, Santos took her place next to Garcia, the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Garcia grabs one of Santos’ hands and brings it to the patient’s open chest.
“Here, let me show you.”
The act was reminiscent of her first day in the Pitt. When Garcia had held her hand to show her how to do a fasciotomy. It felt even more intimate now, knowing exactly what those hands could do to her.
She’d never admit it, but Santos felt a tingling sensation that started in the hand Garcia was holding that spread down her body, settling between her legs with warm heat.
NOT THE TIME, she chastised herself internally.
Garcia places Santos’ hand over the heart, and demonstrates how to squeeze. It was strange to think about her and Garcia holding someone’s heart together. Garcia squeezed for a few beats before she let go of Santos’ hand, watching Santos repeat the action with a questioning look.
Garcia leaned over, her voice low. “Good job, just like that,” she hummed into Santos’ ear.
Santos felt her face heat up and her own heart stutter in a way similar to the patient she was holding. She ignored the way those words made her feel and kept up with a steady squeezing motion. Not too hard, not too soft.
Garcia looked at Donnie, “Hand me the tubing of the Belmont.”
Donnie raised an eyebrow but paused the blood just long enough to detach it from the peripheral IV and hand it to Garcia. To her absolute amazement, Garcia took the tubing and placed it into the laceration of the superior vena cava, effectively dumping blood directly into the heart.
“No fucking way,” Santos whispered in amazement.
Garcia smirked at her, “Just some tricks of the trade.”
“I’d say so,” Robby said, his facial expression betraying how impressed he was.
God, this woman is incredible.
After a couple of minutes, Santos felt a different sensation while she was squeezing the heart. Something more purposeful, maybe?
She pulled her hand back just far enough to check the heart, and watched it pump in an organized way. Her eyes widened, “Someone check peripheral pulses. I think we just got ROSC.”
Dana immediately placed her fingers over the femoral pulse again. This time, nodding satisfactorily. “We got a pulse.”
“BP’s 77/42,” Jesse called out.
Garcia smiled arrogantly, slipping her bloody gloves off and tossing them into the trash can. She walked over to the phone on the wall and placed a call to get the OR ready. After she hung up, she briefly glanced at the watch on her wrist and turned back to the patient. Garcia’s eyes met Santos' eyes again, as if there was no one else in the room.
“You don’t work tomorrow, right?”
Santos blinked a few times. “Uh…no. I’m off.”
She tried not to feel some type of way about Garcia remembering her schedule.
Garcia shrugged her shoulders, “Do you want to scrub in? Farm boy can take your car home and I can take you back afterwards.”
Santos had to resist the urge to jump in excitement. She did so, but just barely. Santos glanced at her own watch, realizing it was already 7:15, 15 minutes past when her shift ended.
Santos spun to face Robby with big, wide eyes. “Please? Can I?”
Robby held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you’re technically off the clock with me. What you do is up to you.” He narrowed his eyes and flicked his eyes between the two of them suspiciously, “Just make sure you hand any pending patients off to night shift.”
Garcia chuckled as she turned the breaks off of the stretcher. “See you upstairs, Odd. I’ll meet you in the breakroom.”
Santos tried to ignore all the looks from her coworkers. Instead, choosing to speedwalk out of the room to meet with the night-shit doctors.
Luckily, she didn’t have too many pending things to hand off. Most of her patients were just waiting on beds upstairs, and were officially under the care of the hospitalist. She sped through report and hopped on the elevator to head to the surgical floor.
The break room wasn’t too hard to find. Just outside of it, Santos found Garcia talking to who she could only assume was the OR charge nurse. The woman was just slightly shorter than Garcia, her gray hair pulled back into a bun, wearing light blue surgical scrubs. Santos wouldn’t be surprised if she had done this job longer than Santos had been alive.
As Santos approached, Garcia looked up and smiled at her. She tilted her head in Santos’ direction, “Robyn, this is Dr. Santos. First year ED resident. She’ll be scrubbing in with us.”
Robyn shifted her eyes to Santos for a second before turning her eyes back to Garcia. She held eye contact with the surgeon with a raised eyebrow, “...Right..”
For a split second, Garcia almost looked sheepish. She quickly shifted into neutrality with a shrug, “She did some good work on the case and she is interested in surgery. I figured this could be a good learning opportunity”.
Robyn didn’t take her eyes off of Garcia, merely squinted them at her. She remained silent.
Garcia quickly looked away, “Anyway, Robyn is going to help get you some surgical scrubs. I have to talk to Walsh about a couple of patients real quick. I’ll meet you both in the OR”. With that, she spun on her heels and entered the break room. When the door opened, for a split second it revealed the face of a smirking Emery Walsh before the door closed behind them.
Santos looked at Robyn, who was looking at her with interest. She glanced down at the black scrubs Santos had worn for over 12 hours with a frown. There was some blood on her sleeve that she hadn’t noticed before as well as drops of blood on the leg of her pants. “Come with me. You cannot wear those nasty scrubs in the OR.”
Santos followed quietly behind as Robyn made it down the hall. She pointed to the scrub dispenser and then to the locker room next door. Santos nodded, snagging a pair of light blue scrubs. She headed into the locker room and changed quickly. When she was done she glanced in the mirror. She looked different in surgical scrubs. Not good. Not bad. Just different.
She walked back into the hallway to find Robyn on the phone. The scene reminded Santos of Dana and her never ending phone calls. She was pretty sure she would go insane.
After a moment a couple muttered responses into the phone, Robyn hung up and looked back at Santos. “Alright, follow me”. As they walked closer to the OR, Robyn tells Santos the Rules.
“Rule number one, do not touch anything unless you are told to,” her tone sour. “Rule number two, do not touch anything unless you are told to.” Robyn crossed her arms with a furrowed brow, “I already have to deal with surgical interns messing up our cases. I don’t need emergency medicine interns doing it either”.
Santos nodded. “Of course, I don’t fuck with sterile fields.”
The corner of Robyn’s mouth twitched in response, though she didn’t say anything.
Robyn pushed the door open to the surgical scrub room with Santos quickly behind. In Garcia’s absence, she walked Santos through how to scrub in. Before she knew it, she was walking into the OR, glancing at the patient on the table. An older man sat at the head of the bed next to the monitor. When he saw Santos, he tilted his head at her and raised an arm in greeting.
“Hello! I don’t believe we’ve met.” Santos was surprised at his kind tone. “Gordon Schaffer. You can call me Gordon. I’m the Sandman that puts people to sleep,” he said with a chuckle. “Who’re you?”
Santos waved back at him after she gowned up.”Trinity Santos. Emergency Medicine intern. I worked on this patient with Dr. Garcia downstairs. She’s offered to let me scrub in.”
A couple of nurses that were already in the room exchanged glances. Gordon chuckled beneath his mask.
“That’s very interesting. I’ve worked here for a long time and I’ve never once seen Garcia have someone scrub in that wasn’t forced on her by Miller,” he raised his eyebrow at her, “And certainly not an Emergency Medicine resident”.
Santos was happy for the surgical mask that hid her expression. She could feel her face heating up against her will. A small, repressed side of her was relieved that Garcia, didn’t do this often. The surgeon held herself in such a way that Santos was sure Garcia could get whoever she wanted.
Santos just didn’t understand why Garcia wanted her.
Before she could get too far into a depressive spiral, she heard the door open. Garcia strode into the room with an air of quiet confidence, and stopped close to Santos. One of the scrub nurses helped her gown and glove up. When the gown was over her shoulders, she turned to Santos with an amused expression.
“Wanna dance?”
At the confused expression on Santos’ face, Garcia handed her a piece of rectangular cardboard that was holding the tie of her sterile gown. As soon as she grabbed it, Garcia unceremoniously spun around, grabbing the tie back from Santos and tying it around her waist.
Santos chuckled and leaned in, close enough to Garcia’s ear that the other staff in the room couldn’t overhear.
“I’d dance with you any time,” she said with a smirk.
Garcia flashed her a look. The bottom half of her face was covered with a surgical mask, but all Garcia really needed was her eyes to communicate with Santos.
“You ready to get this party started?” Even while wearing the mask, Santos could tell Garcia was smirking.
“Ready as I’ll ever be”.
“Good. I’m going to have you on suction during most of the case. His vital signs are much more stable than when he was in the ED”. Garcia glanced at the beeping monitors by the anesthesiologist, who was looking at the two of them with great interest.
“Probably had to do with you dumping blood directly into his heart,,” Santos shook her head in disbelief, “Definitely never thought I would see something like that.”
Garcia shrugged, “You know what they say. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
“Except for you, it’s when life gives you lacerations, bring the blood closer to the heart?”
Garcia fully laughed at that. “Something like that.”
Garcia took her place by the operating table, Santos standing across from her.
“Time for a time out,” one of the scrub nurses said.
Garcia glanced at the wrist band and read the details aloud. His name, birthday, and the operation they were planning to do. Finally, Garcia grabbed her scalpel and started cutting.
Santos stood across from her in absolute fascination. Garcia commanded the room like a queen. There was no questioning in any of her movements, like she knew exactly what needed to be done. The scrub tech passed the tools to Garcia with minimal spoken words. Santos was impressed at how well the surgical team flowed together. Garcia was narrating her movements out loud. Santos was certain this was her benefit and she was deeply appreciative of it.
Standing in the OR, Santos realized just how different it was from her home in the ED. The ED was constant sounds, constant chaos. In the OR, the only sounds were the faint beeping of the monitor and Garcia’s voice.
“Do you ever listen to music when you operate?” Santos asked curiously, “ I thought that was like a thing that surgeons did.”
Garcia briefly raised her eyes from her surgical field to meet Santos’ eyes. “On routine cases, yes. Otherwise, I would be bored to tears. During cases like this, I don’t want to be distracted.”
Santos nodded. That made sense.
Santos expected Garcia’s eyes to immediately return to her field, but they stayed locked onto Santos for longer than she expected.
One of the scrub nurses cleared her throat.
Garcia blinked a few times and returned to her work.
Santos felt that heat again. The kind that made it hard for her to focus, especially when there was a smart, beautiful woman in front of her that looked at her like that.
“Santos, what are some possible complications of a thoracotomy?” Garcia questioned, without looking up.
“Uh….Respiratory failure, pneumonia, dysrhythmias, PTPS, post-operative bleeding or clotting, like PE or DVT”.
Garcia nodded, “What type of abnormal opening can be created?”
Santos blinked a few times. Her green irises moved up and to the corner of her eyes, as if she was trying to search her brain. She mentally flashed through her Anki cards. “Ah, a bronchopleural fistula!” Santos answered triumphantly.
Garcia looked up again to meet her eyes. They were full of warmth that Santos didn’t expect to see. “What are the symptoms of that?”
Santos took a moment, but the answer came quicker to her this time, “Shortness of breath, chest pain, persistent air leaks, fever, productive cough, and worsening subq emphysema,” she said with a nod.
The corners of Garcia’s eyes crinkled a little. “Correct. Good job. Even my surgical interns can struggle with that”.
Santos smirked behind her mask, “Maybe they’re just scared of you”.
A couple people in the room chuckled and Garcia raised her eyebrow at her. “Do you think I’m scary?”
“Only when I accidentally drop a scalpel on your foot during a procedure.”
There was a guffawing laugh from the top of the bed, “No way! That was you?!” He held his belly as he continued laughing, “I would have thought she would have ended you, and yet, here you are, scrubbed in with her”.
Garcia rolled her eyes. “It was her first day. It was a mistake”.
Gordon wiped his eyes as his laughing slowed, “Since when did that matter to you before? You’ve verbally ripped out throats of other residents for much less”.
Garcia gave him a sideways look, but didn’t dignify him with an answer.
“I mean, she did kind of verbally tear me a new one afterwards. Called me smart, but too arrogant for my own good,” Santos shrugged, “Which wasn’t exactly wrong at the time.”
Garcia chuckled despite herself, her eyes flicking up towards Santos again. “You made it up to me, so you’re in the clear,” her voice was lower than Santos expected, sending a throb between her legs. She forced herself not to shift to make the effect obvious, trying to force her brain to be blank.
Of course, her brain was her own worst enemy. So images of how she made it up to Garcia flashed behind her eyes. Turning the usual cool calm and collected surgeon into a trembling mess in her bed. Then the hungry look in her eyes as Garcia jumped on top of her to return the favor. Santos bit her lip to keep herself from making some embarrassing sound.
Santos cleared her throat, “Yeah, hopefully no more scalpels where they aren’t supposed to be”. She looked away from Garcia, trying to get a handle on herself. When she looked back, Garcia was still looking at her, this time with the same hungry eyes she had been imagining just seconds before.
There was a shift in the air between them. The tension was so thick, it could be cut with a knife.
Garcia returned to her work.
The rest of the surgery went like that. Garcia asking her prompting questions. Santos answering them all correctly. Garcia asking for suction to clear the view. The same heated look in Garcia’s eyes that made Santos want the surgery to hurry along.
Finally, she was wrapping up. “Dr. Santos, would you like to close?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah! That would be awesome!”
The scrub tech handed Santos a closed clamp that already had the suture ready to go. Santos took a deep breath and started a running stitch, a technique she practiced a lot when she was bored. She was quick and neat, speeding through the repair as if she had done it a million times before.
Garcia watched her repair with interest. “I wasn’t sure you Emergency Cowboys knew how to do anything besides a simple interrupted,” she said with a chuckle.
Santos reached the end of the laceration and started to tie off the sutures. “You and I both know that would take forever. I try to practice different suture types when I have the time”.
“Of course you do.” Even with the mask on, Santos could tell Garcia was smiling. Santos dropped the supplies off to the side with the other used equipment when she was done. “Excellent work, Dr. Santos,” Garcia nodded approvingly at her work. “Now, he’ll be taken to the PACU for recovery. We’ve done everything we can do here.” Garcia squinted up at the clock, “Scrub out time 2227,” she said, as she backed away from the field, untying her surgical gown and pulling it over her shoulders.
Santos couldn’t believe 3 hours could go as quickly as it did.
Garcia flashed Santos a heated look and tilted her head to the exit in a wordless, Let’s get out of here, look.
And Santos certainly couldn’t say no to that.
Santos stopped by the locker room to grab her stuff while Garcia briefly left to give report to Walsh, and changed out of the surgical scrubs she was given. She stripped down to the blue tank top she was wearing beneath her scrubs and changed into a pair of loose, gray sweatpants. The tank top rode up just enough to show a sliver of skin between the garments. She took her hair out of the ponytail she had been wearing for 15 hours and threw her bag over her shoulder.
Trinity left the locker room and headed down the hall towards the parking garage. There, Yolanda was waiting for her near the elevators. She smirked at Trinity, her eyes flashing to Trinity’s lips then to the small area of exposed skin above her sweatpants as she tapped her work badge against the reader by the elevator. Because surgeons were fancy and got access to special parts of the hospital.
When the elevator doors open, the two of them entered it together. Trinity felt like she was tingling from head to toe. Before the elevator doors are even done closing, they both turned to launch towards each other, lips meeting in a messy kiss. It’s all tongue and fueled with the tension that had built throughout the entire shift.
Yolanda’s hands rested on the exposed skin at Trinity’s hips and shoved her against the back wall of the elevator, pulling her lips away just long enough to groan, “God, you look so good,” against Trinity’s lips, “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”
Trinity’s hips twitched forward before she could help it as she met Yolanda’s lips again in a breathless haze.
Before they could get too far, the elevator doors dinged. They pulled away from each other, both of them flushed and panting.
The doors opened to a nearly empty level of the parking garage. There were a couple of fancy cars parked close to the elevator but otherwise empty except for Yolanda’s car that was parked at the far end of the garage by itself. The front of the car faced an open area of concrete that exposed the city of Pittsburgh illuminated by a full moon.
Yolanda curls her arm around Trinity’s waist and walks with her. Her fingers twitched when she got close to her car.
This time, it’s Trinity that pushes Yolanda against the driver side door of the car, kissing Yolanda before the surgeon could react, both arms encircling Yolanda’s neck. They both moaned at the same time when their tongues met in restless passion.
Yolanda pulls away first, chuckling breathlessly at Trinity’s eagerness. “Impatient, aren’t you?” She murmured against her lips.
Trinity groaned in frustration. “Come on, you can’t expect me to scrub in with you and not be horny. I could barely keep from touching myself in the locker room.”
Yolanda pulled away with a glint in her eyes, as if an idea came to her. She grabbed Trinity’s hand and walked her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.
“Such a gentleman,” Trinity mumbled sarcastically as she got in and Yolanda walked back towards the driver’s side.
Though it was night outside, the full moon streamed enough light through the windshield of Yolanda’s car that they could clearly see each other. Yolanda turned her body and ran her eyes down Trinity’s body with a smirk.
“Touch yourself for me. I want to see you play with your pretty pussy”.
Trinity gaped at her for a moment, the commanding words sending a throb straight to her clit and heat to her face. For a moment, Trinity considered saying no, but the hungry look Yolanda gave her set her body ablaze.
Without breaking eye contact, Trinity sank her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants and pulled them down, slowly. In real time, she watched Yolanda’s eyes dilate into complete blackness.
The reaction spurred her on.
She pulled the lever by her seat to flatten it down slightly then leaned back and twisted to face Yolanda’s hungry stare. After a moment she spread her legs and ran her own hand down, stopping to run slow circles around her clit through the thin cotton fabric of her underwear.
Yolanda exhaled a breath through her nose when she spotted the damp spot on Trinity’s underwear, seemingly spreading with each pass of Trinity’s circling fingers.
“Take your underwear off. I want to see how wet you are for me.”
Trinity bit her lip, her fingers hooking into the band of her underwear, “Yes, ma’am,” the words were supposed to be dripped in sarcasm, but they came out breathless and earnest instead. She pulled her underwear down her legs and threw them into the back seat, never looking away from Yolanda’s eyes. Her hand returned to her aching clit without the fabric to cover it.
The surgeon groaned, shifting in her seat so she was leaning over the center console to get a closer look. “God, you’re such a good girl for me,” one of her hands reached out to grab roughly at Trinity’s breast, pinching her nipple hard enough that Trinity could feel it through her tank top and sports bar.
She let out a soft whimper, her fingers circling faster around the swollen pink nub. Trinity stopped just long enough to grab the hem of her tank top and strip it over her head, her sports bra going with it, leaving Trinity completely naked in the passenger seat and Yolanda fully dressed.
“Fuck,” Yolanda managed to force out. One hand returning to Trinity’s breast to play with the sensitive pierced nipple, her other hand slipping beneath her own scrub pants to put pressure on her own throbbing clit. Yolanda’s hips jerked when Trinity let out a strangled moan at the action.
Trinity stopped circling her clit, her hand drifting lower to her entrance. Yolanda watched with intense interest as Trinity slipped her middle and ring finger into herself and started pumping slowly. Slick, wet sounds filled the car as Trinity started thrusting into herself.
Yolanda looked feral. Unable to help herself any longer, she leaned over the center console and replaced the fingers on Trinity’s nipple with her mouth, flicking her tongue against it. Trinity cried out and both of them started moving their fingers faster against themselves. The sound of Trinity’s wetness seemed to get louder.
Yolanda pulled back from Trinity’s breast, her eyes taking turns flicking between the fingers working between Trinity’s legs and her flushed, moaning face. “My beautiful girl, you look so fucking sexy touching yourself for me.”
Trinity whined, her hips shifting restlessly as her fingers thrusted against herself. If Yolanda looked close enough, she could see Trinity’s arousal dripping onto the seat beneath her.
The flush on Trinity’s face spread down to her chest, her fingers starting to lose their rhythm, “—Fuck—Yolanda,” she whimpered, “I’m so fucking close.”
“Don’t come until I tell you to,” Yolanda leaned over to slip her tongue into Trinity’s mouth, muffling the impatient whine. The kiss was messy as Yolanda moved her fingers against herself faster.
The two of them kissed each other sloppily, Trinity’s other hand reaching out to grab at Yolanda’s forearm as their desperation increased.
Trinity pulled away from Yolanda’s mouth to catch her breath. Her back arched suddenly, warmth spreading slowly throughout her body. “P-please Yolanda,” the grip on Yolanda’s forearm tightened, “Please can I come? Pleasepleaseplease—“
Yolanda groaned against her mouth, her own release sneaking up on her. “Such a good girl,” Yolanda whispered as her fingers spread up. “Fuck, baby. Come for me. I need it so bad.”
At the same time, Trinity cried out and Yolanda let out a stream of curses in Spanish. The two of them twitched against each other as they came. They clutched each other as they came down from their high, panting breathlessly into each other’s mouth.
After a few moments, Yolanda reached below Trinity’s seat, pulling on the bar and shoving the seat back as far as it would go. Trinity lifted her head just in time to see Yolanda settle on the floorboard on her knees, leaving a trail of kisses up Trinity’s thighs.
“I have to taste you”. Before she could prepare herself, Yolanda dove between her legs, eating Trinity out like her life depended on it.
Trinity slapped a hand over her own mouth to silence the scream that was sure to come out when Yolanda worked her tongue against Trinity’s cunt. She reached her other hand to tangle it in Yolanda’s hair as she worked.
Yolanda hummed against Trinity’s clit, causing her hips to spasm against Yolanda’s mouth. Yolanda reached up to grab her thighs and pressed them up, sliding lower to fuck her tongue against Trinity’s entrance, reaching as deep as she could. Her thumb coming up to circle her swollen clit.
“Yolanda!” Trinity’s body stiffened against her tongue, “—Fuck…I can’t….I’m gonna—“
Yolanda only hummed, working against Trinity faster.
Trinity clenched down, crying out as she twitched against Yolanda’s mouth. Yolanda’s movements slowed when Trinity’s legs started to tremble.
Trinity ran her hands through her own hair as she came down, panting breathlessly. “Holy shit.”
Yolanda smirked up at her, her face glistening from Trinity’s arousal. She rubbed Trinity’s legs as she recovered.
“What do you say we go back to mine? Give farm boy a break for once.”
Trinity laughed breathlessly, her brain still blank from the back-to-back orgasms. “Sure. Your bed is bigger anyway.”
Yolanda stretched out from the floorboard and ungracefully slid back over the center console into the drivers seat while Trinity pulled her tank top back on without bothering to put her bra back on and slid her sweatpants on.
She started the car and shifted into reverse. Giving one last glance to Trinity’s flushed and disheveled state with a smirk.