Work Text:
Baran was known to shoot for the stars.
She didn’t have that voice in the back of her head that told her to hold anything back, to proceed with caution. Most of the time, that was a good thing. Most days, it was helpful. Today, unfortunately, it was not.
Because today, she was drunk at a gay bar called Twist, eyes glued to the slouched frame of Dr. Santos across the bar, and she was about to make a very bad decision.
They hadn’t arrived together, of course; Trinity didn’t spend any more time with Baran than was necessary, not at work and definitely not outside of it. At first, she had chalked the dislike up to a rough start, considering the circumstances of her first day, but she was very quickly shown the real reason behind it.
Yolanda Garcia. The name makes Baran’s eyes roll instantly, gulping down the rest of her drink, ignoring the warmth as it slides down her throat. The crystal makes a heavy thunk as she places it back onto the counter, eyes flicking back and forth from her glass to Trinity. She had only become privy to their relationship a few weeks ago, when she had finished complimenting Trinity’s skills during a crisis and had noticed the way her eyes flicked over to Garcia before giving a tentative thank you.
When she left, thinning her lips into a smile as she met her eyes before the door swung shut behind her, Baran had turned and sized Garcia up. They didn’t get along. Baran tried, mostly, but even with her thick skin and innate ability to handle a woman’s attitude, she found that Yolanda was one of the few people in the world who just… got under her skin. She always walked in like she owned the room, talked like everyone would listen, and always had something ill-mannered and borderline cruel to say.
Where Baran worked under the assumption that everyone was doing their best, Yolanda worked under the assumption that everyone was a little too stupid to take serious. Maybe that’s where Trinity got it from. All the posturing, all the snippy comments and eye rolls, some of it felt authentic. Some of it, though, felt artificial, like she was trying to make her walls seem taller and stronger than they actually were.
“Are you going to talk, or are you just going to stare at me, Dr. Al-Hashimi?” Yolanda asked without turning, peeling off her blood-soaked gloves. Baran approached, hands behind her back. When Yolanda looked over her shoulder, she huffed at how close she was. “Jesus, do you need a bell or something?”
“I’m curious about something.” Baran said, taking a small step back as Yolanda moved past her. She kept up, eyes flicking up to the back of Yolanda’s head as they exited the room and entered the hustle of the ED. Yolanda gave a noncommittal grunt. “I can tell Dr. Santos is very fond of you.”
Yolanda’s steps slowed just a little. “Is there a question there?”
“I just wonder if the nature of your relationship is affecting her work.”
“You just spent five minutes telling her how great she did,” Yolanda said, stopping at the staircase and turning to face Baran. Her eyes were narrowed, arms folded across her chest in the defensive. “And now you’re saying I’m screwing with her work?” Baran kept her stance open. Yolanda let the moment hang a little bit longer before shrugging, lips twitched into that familiar smug grin that made Baran’s own smile thin. “Maybe I’m just a good mentor. She’s hoping to get into surgery, I’m encouraging that.”
“I don’t doubt you are, but I get the feeling it’s not purely professional, is it?”
“Would it matter if it wasn’t?”
“Only if it was affecting how she was treating other doctors.”
Yolanda scoffed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “That’s what this is about? She didn’t fawn over your praise like everyone else here does, and you think I have something to do with it?” Garcia shook her head. “I think Dr. Santos is perfectly capable of coming to her own conclusions about people, Lulu. Maybe you’re just not as charming as you think you are.”
Baran ignored the flash of annoyance, the desire to reach out and slap that fucking look off of her face. Instead, she just shrugged, forcing a smile. “Maybe. Or maybe you have more power over her than you realize.” For a moment, Yolanda stared, eyes boring into Baran’s like she was waiting for her to rein it in and apologize. When she held strong, Garcia shook her head again and turned around, walking up the steps to the surgical floor.
Baran knew then and there that something was going on between the two of them. The depth of it, though, she couldn’t figure out; conversations died down when she walked in, Garcia’s eyes stayed focused on the patient instead of on Trinity when they spoke, a wide berth was kept when they passed each other in the hallway.
But they couldn't hide the way the air thickened when they were together, even if Baran wished they could.
Trinity was smart. God, was she smart, and a little arrogant, and so confident it was enough to make Baran’s head swim. She loved it. How couldn’t she? Everything that she saw in Trinity was the makings of a fantastic doctor, which is exactly what she wanted for her.
She just couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why someone so smart would do something so stupid like date her.
That’s why she worried about their fractured relationship, nothing more. It was purely professional; she couldn’t be the best chief attending physician she could be if one of her residents hated her guts all because of Dr. Garcia, now could she? No, she needed to find a way to bridge the gap, to come to an understanding and, maybe, even a friendship.
So when she spots Trinity across the bar that night, head resting in her hand, lips thin and eyes staring at the bar top blankly, she approaches because she has to. “Dr. Santos,” she greets, smiling lightly when her eyes lift to meet hers. “I didn’t think anyone from the hospital came here.”
“Oh, uh, hi, Dr. Al-Hashimi… yeah, sometimes I do.” Trinity says, sitting up straighter, hands wrapping around her half-empty glass like it could ground her. Baran notices the glassy shine to the usually bright green, her lips twitching into a frown. “It’s kind of close to my apartment.”
“It’s a nice spot. And, please, call me Baran.” The two of them fall silent. Around them, other patrons' overlapping conversations mesh with the sound of billiards and the music that was pouring out of the speakers on either side of the bar. “Can I sit?” Baran finally asks, lips curling into a small smile when Trinity looks shocked. “If you’re not waiting on anyone, that is. Is Dr. Garcia meeting you?”
Trinity’s face sours at the name. “Yeah, no, Yolanda is not coming to meet me.” She grumbles, sneering at the name before taking a sip of her drink. She shrugs her shoulders. “You can sit, I guess. I’m probably not the best company right now, though.”
Baran slides into the barstool beside Trinity, taking a chance to glance at her outfit. A cute red top and a black skirt, the hemline landing mid thigh. Baran’s eyes land there, stuck for a moment as she wonders what kind of underwear she was wearing. She lifts her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she watches Trinity take another sip of her drink.
“You’re always good company, Dr. Santos.”
“I don’t think you really believe that, but thanks.” Trinity snorts, though her smile falters almost instantly. Baran’s eyebrows thread together slightly as she motions for the bartender to get two more of whatever she had been drinking. “And call me Trinity; I really don’t want to be reminded about that place right now.”
“Mm, did something happen between you and Dr. Garcia-” she flashes a sheepish smile when Trinity’s eyes flick towards her, narrowing. “I mean, Yolanda, at work?” She gives a nod in thanks as the two glasses are slid in front of her. She pushes one towards Trinity who eyes it suspiciously. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not. I know she has certain… opinions of me that might make it uncomfortable.”
Trinity’s face warms slightly. “Oh, I guess you noticed that, huh?” She asks sheepishly, tentatively taking the glass from her. She chews at the inside of her cheek and Baran laughs under her breath.
“Noticed that she kind of hates me? Yes, I did.” She grins, trying to ease the tension still evident in Trinity’s shoulders. She takes a slow sip of her drink, eyes not leaving Trinity’s frame. She watches her shift under the attention. The second her glass is down, Trinity is sipping hers. “I have also noticed that you don’t seem to like me very much.”
Trinity chokes on her drink, cursing under her breath as the liquor drips down her chin and neck. Baran blinks a few times as she watches a droplet of liquid roll towards Trinity’s tits before her hand wipes it off. Baran looks away, down at her hands, the slow burn of heat and humiliation building in her stomach. An image of leaning in and letting her tongue trail back up the path the liquor left flashes through Baran’s mind and she shifts her weight, crossing her legs to give herself the faintest bit of relief.
“I do like you!” Trinity gawks, eyes widening. Baran responds by raising an eyebrow, focusing on the warmth in her chest and the buzz in her head instead of the throbbing between her legs. Trinity flashes her a sheepish smile. “I do! I guess I can be, you know… a little cold sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don’t respect you!”
“Relax, Trinity, it's alright.” Baran reassures with a grin. The other woman nods, but Baran can see the tension still in her shoulders. She frowns slightly. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just-”
“No, no, stop. Jesus,” Trinity says, rubbing at her face with her hand. She sucks in a slow, long breath, eyes closed before they pop open. “It's fine, you weren’t… you weren’t exactly wrong.” She says slowly, like each word hurts to get out. Baran doesn’t react just yet. “I’m still getting used to you, no offense, obviously, but I guess–and I’m only admitting this because I’m a little drunk, so, let's keep it between us–some of the hostility could be because of Yolanda.”
She trails off as she speaks, nervously running her finger along the rim of her glass, eyes darting back and forth between her drink and Baran’s reaction. Lack of reaction, to be more specific. If this had been Yolanda (not that Trinity even wants to think about her right now) hearing that Trinity had been purposefully cold all because of another woman’s opinion… hell would have broken loose.
An argument, at the very least. Probably some harsh words and low blows that Trinity would take to the chin just like she always fucking did. She wasn’t stupid; she didn’t expect Baran to respond exactly the same way, but she expected something. A scoff. An eye roll. A restrained smile like the ones she always threw Garcia’s way.
Instead, Baran nods her head like she doesn’t need Trinity to explain any further. “I understand. It’s alright; I know you hold her opinion in high regard. And you’re not obviously disrespectful, so…” She shrugs, like it’s really that simple. Trinity blinks.
“Wait, so, you’re forgiving me?”
“Well, I’m not sure there’s anything to forgive, but sure.” Baran, looser now as the alcohol has steadily worked its way into her system, rests her head against her hand. “I forgive you, Trinity.” The way she says it, slow and pointed, rolling off her tongue like honey, doesn’t read as a joke. She straightens in her chair, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. “I’ll leave you alone now. Get a drink on me, okay? I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Dr. Santos.”
Baran really was planning on leaving it there. She got confirmation that Trinity didn’t hate her for anything on her own accord; that was good enough for her. Trinity watches her silently as she stands off the bar stool, downs the rest of her drink, and flicks through a few bills to lay on the counter beside her.
She’s not sure just yet what it is. Maybe the alcohol, maybe the lingering irritation at Garcia, or maybe just the simple kindness Al-Hashimi had thrown her way; whatever it is, it has her reaching her hand out, grabbing hold of Baran’s wrist.
“You can stay,” she says quickly, fingers pressing into Baran’s skin just a tad as her grip tightens. She can feel the older woman's pulse jump as her brown eyes flick down to where she was touching her. Interesting. Trinity lets go, fingers returning to running along her glass. She looks away like she’s shy, though right now she’s feeling the opposite. Liquor makes her bold. “I could use a, uh… sounding board, if you’re still willing to listen?”
“Of course I am,” Baran says immediately, sitting back down, her body turned towards Trinity. She lets out an awkward chuff of laughter and for the first time since she’s known her, Trinity sees a flicker of nervousness. “I just mean that I want to listen because I want to be a good boss.”
Trinity shrugs, bringing her glass to her lips. “You’re not technically my boss right now, though, right?”
Baran’s pupils dilate. She nods once. “That is very true.”
“So, I guess we can be friends now. You know, since Yolanda and I are…” She slices a hand through the air lazily. “No more. Or whatever.” She takes a few more sips of her drink before sighing heavily, turning on the stool to face Baran. She settles her knees on either side of Baran’s leg, looking up at her through heavy lids. “I guess we weren’t really anything to begin with, though.”
Trinity knew she would, most likely, regret telling Baran any of this tomorrow morning. She wasn’t sloppy by any means, but fuck, the drinks made her tongue loose and fanned the simmering irritation until she could barely sit still. So, who actually cared if she talked a little shit, told the truth? It’s not like Al-Hashimi would ever tell Garcia, let alone have the chance to.
“What do you mean? Aren’t you two… I thought you two were a couple?” Baran shouldn’t have had that last drink. She blinks slowly, the words ‘God, please don’t stare at her tits,’ looping in her head. She’s not gone, but her mind is simultaneously elsewhere, a bedroom, her bedroom, with Trinity underneath her talking about anything other than Yolanda fucking Garcia.
“Sort of. Well, not really, actually.” She deflates slightly as she talks, taking a second to think through how she wants to phrase what she’s going to say. “It was casual at first. Which I liked; I mean, would you hate having constant mind-blowing sex with her?” She squints at Baran. “Well, actually, you would hate it.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Not me though,” Trinity sighs wistfully. “I really liked it. Liked her. And the things she did…” Baran’s jaw clenches as Trinity starts to go off on a tangent, voice dipping low. “I mean, she did this thing with her tongue that I didn’t even know was possible.” She trails off for a moment before shaking her head, getting herself back on track. “Anyways, it started casual, but now it’s just…”
Baran tilts her head slightly, sympathy evident in her face. “Complicated?”
“I was gonna say ‘fucking annoying,’ but yeah, complicated works.” Trinity says, lips twitching into the first real, but tired, grin of the night as Baran chuckles. They had somehow moved closer to each other, Baran’s knee slotted in between Trinity's thighs, half under her skirt, each of them leaning on their elbow on the bar. She can feel the occasional ghosting of Baran’s breath on her cheek, the warmth of her knee against her cunt.
Baran can too. Her gaze is far too focused, too sharp, and all she wants to do is slide a little closer, press her kneecap against Trinity’s pussy, and watch her breath hitch.
“How complicated is it?’” Baran asks slowly, letting her eyes flick across Trinity’s features. She loves her eyes, how expressive they are, how she can tell Trinity is far too aware of her own power over Baran. “Should I be worried about her coming here and kicking my ass for talking to you?”
Trinity gives a small shake of her head. “I’m sure she’s doing something worse than talking with a friend, right now.”
“Hmm. So, what did she do?”
“How do you know it’s her fault?”
“You don’t seem like the kind of person who's at fault often,” Baran replies smoothly. Trinity runs her tongue along her bottom lip slowly, leaning in a tad closer as the compliment hits her square in the chest. Yolanda never seemed to think that was the case. “So, what happened?”
Trinity shrugs slightly, frowning as the memory resurfaces. The liquor had loosened the thinly held restraint that kept her from complaining about Yolanda on a ‘normal’ day. “What always happens with shit like that. She thought I wanted more and she basically ended it.”
“Basically?”
“Gave me an ultimatum: prove I’m screwing other people and that I’m not more into her than she is into me, or we stop.” She shrugs like it doesn’t sting, but her lips curl into a thin smile. “Stupid, right? I mean, why do I have to prove that when I tell her it’s true?”
“Is it true?”
“What?”
“Are you sleeping with other people?”
Trinity blinks. She’s not sure what she had expected from Al-Hashimi, who has never bothered to hold back questions in the name of social convention before, but it still catches her off guard. She thinks back to the conversation in her apartment with Garcia, voices hushed to avoid Whitaker overhearing, though Trinity knew he could anyway.
It was a rehashing of an argument they had been having the last four weeks. Trinity didn’t want a label, she didn’t want to be a girlfriend, and she didn’t even want to go around and fucking tell anyone their business. All she wanted was a little acknowledgment that there was a liiittle bit more of an investment than the word ‘casual’ lent it. She’s experienced plenty of ‘casual,’ and what her and Garcia were doing was far from it.
“Well, no, not technically…” Trinity mutters, rolling her eyes when Baran smiles. “Just because I’m not bouncing between beds doesn’t mean I’m not casual, which is the exact point I was trying to make to her before she pulled that crap.”
“Well, why don’t you just… do it?” Baran asks bluntly. “You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure you’d have no trouble finding someone to sleep with, and then you can get Dr. Garcia off your back.” Trinity’s eyes flick down to her drink, and Baran scoffs, trying her best to sound amused. “I see. You don’t actually want to be with anyone but her, do you?”
Trinity shrugs, still unable to lift her gaze back to Baran’s face, a familiar wave of humiliation washing over her. “I can sleep with whoever I want to. But, you know… we know each other. She gets me–sees me– and I just don’t get why she’s acting like it’s nothing.” Her lips thin as she chews at the inside of her cheek before she scoffs. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot, aren’t I?”
“You’re far from an idiot, Trinity,” Baran says instantly, brows twitching together in worry as she watches Trinity rub her hand over her face in frustration. “I know I don’t know Yolanda as well as you do, but I do know she likes to be the one to make decisions, regardless of the input of others.” Her tone isn’t sharp necessarily, but there’s an undercurrent of resentment that Trinity can hear loud and clear. “Maybe she just doesn’t like the fact that you’re trying to take the lead and make it something.”
It’s really not like Baran to try and sow the seeds of doubt in others. She prides herself on her positive approach, but Yolanda Garcia wasn’t a positive person, and clearly doesn’t elicit positive emotions in the people around her, so why should she give a shit?
“I guess she usually does take the lead…” Trinity says, looking over at Baran with a wide eyed look. She shifts closer on the stool, sucking in a small breath when she feels Baran’s knee nudge against her clothed pussy. Maybe it was an accident. She waits half a second for Baran to move, and when she doesn’t, she lets her lips curl into a lazy smile. “I guess you do too, though, huh?”
Baran shrugs. “I’m usually pretty adaptable to whatever someone may need.”
“And if someone needed to prove something to someone… would you be willing to help?” She reaches her hand out, hooking her finger against the necklace Baran was wearing to look at the charm. Her skin probably looked as warm as Baran’s felt, hot and alive and inching closer by the second. “You know, to make them jealous?”
Maybe in another life, one far more reserved than her own had been, Baran could have found the strength to say no. Baran doesn't think about that or the lack of self respect as she nods, a jerky motion, like she’s being puppeted. She tries to rein herself in, but her knee pushes forwards slightly, pressing further against Trinity’s cunt. The movement makes Trinity suck in a breath, eyes closing for a long second before opening again, pupils wide.
“Maybe. If you tell me how you plan on proving it to her.” Baran says under her breath. Her eyes darken. “A picture? A video? A phone call, so you can make sure she hears? What exactly do you want from me, Trinity?”
“If I tell you, you’ll help?”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?”
For a moment, Trinity considers bailing. It’s not that Baran wasn’t her type–look at her– but she wasn’t Yolanda. The thought makes Trinity swallow thickly. It was always going to come down to that, wasn’t it? No matter what she did, who she did, it was always going to come back to her.
Trinity hates herself for it. Hates herself for giving up the self-respect she had built over the years for the first woman who looked at her and didn’t see something that needed fixing, or learning, or leaving.
Until now. Until it got to be too much. Until she got to be too much. Until the exact fucking thing she had told Yolanda she was worried about happening, that first night they hooked up, with the other woman’s deft fingers making their way into her, happened. And Yolanda had promised with a mutter against her lips that she wasn’t that much of an asshole, that she had no reason to worry, that she was right there.
Fuck it.
“A video, I think. Maybe a phone call?”
“You think?” Baran tsks lightly, shaking her head as she pushes her knee in again, grinding down against Trinity’s clit. A small, choked noise is ripped from her throat, her head dipping in embarrassment until Baran grabs her chin and forces her to look her in the eyes. “You have to make a decision, Dr. Santos, if you’re going to ask for something like this. If you’re not sure-”
"A phone call.” Trinity interrupts, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’ll call her and we can make her listen.” She waits for Baran’s verdict with a familiar spark in her chest, like when she would wait to see if Garcia was going to stay the night. “We can do whatever will piss her off the most.”
Baran does nothing for a moment, gears in her head turning at a mile a minute. Saying yes was the risky and stupid choice. Saying no was the safe choice. Baran nods once, letting go of Trinity’s chin and removing her leg from between her thighs as she stands. Trinity shifts, suddenly uncomfortable with the emptiness. “Let’s go, then.”
----
Trinity’s apartment is empty. Whitaker was gone for the weekend again, ‘helping’ Amy out, whatever that meant, leaving Baran and Trinity with all the time in the world. The cab ride over had consisted of a long, slow kiss. Baran’s tongue had slipped into Trinity’s mouth, one hand heavy on the back of her neck, the other on her thigh. The few times Trinity attempted to push her hand up higher, closer, Baran would pull back without a word, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing.
And she did. As they stumble into the apartment, one of them managing to push the door shut with an elbow or a foot, Trinity can’t help but be a little surprised. She hasn’t ever thought about what kissing Baran Al-Hashimi would be like, but if she had, she never would have imagined this. Slow and heavy, tongue licking into Trinity’s mouth just often enough to make her head spin, hands moving from her neck to her jaw to her tits, squeezing at them with a moan before cradling her jaw again.
It was intoxicating. She felt drunker on Baran’s mouth than she did the drinks, which had settled into her system and dulled the little voice in her head that always thought about the consequences. Her own hands are at Baran’s hip as she’s pressed back against the apartment wall, tipping her head to the side as Al-Hashimi drags her teeth across her pulse point.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” Trinity pants, and Baran doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling. She nips at her pulse again and Trinity’s hips push off the wall into Baran. “Fuck…” Pushing her hands up Baran’s shirt, she lets out a small laugh when her fingers brush against her bare nipple. “You weren’t wearing a bra? You go there to get laid, Doctor?”
Baran gasps, warm air ghosting along Trinity’s neck as she arches into it. “Maybe,” she admits, whining when Trinity pinches at her nipple. Baran’s hand slides around her neck, just enough so she can force her to look her in the eyes. Trinity’s were heavy-lidded, glazed over in arousal, so fucking concentrated that it felt like she could see into Baran’s soul. “When do you want to call her?”
“Who?” Trinity asks before her head catches back up to her. “Oh, her. You really want her to hear, don’t you?”
“I thought that was the plan you had?”
“It is, but I thought you’d feel a little bad for her.”
Baran’s lips twitch upwards as she gives a small shake of her head. She leans in, lips brushing against Trinity’s ear. “I think you’ll come to realize that I’m not that nice, Dr. Santos.” She licks at the shell of her ear once before biting down on her earlobe, mouth hungry as she trails kisses down her neck again. She can’t seem to stay in one place for too long, her hands and mouth moving faster than she herself can think.
“I want her to hear you eat my pussy,” Trinity whines, pushing her hips into Baran’s again, abandoning her tits in favor of grabbing her face. She rests her forehead against Baran’s. “Please, fuck? I-I know it’s fucked up, I know, but it’s only fair, right? She comes over all the time with marks from the women she’s been with, it’s only fair I make her jealous too, right?”
Baran listens to her babbling in silence, nodding along. She doesn’t give a fuck about Garcia, or if this plan will even work, in all honesty. She came to that conclusion in the cab while letting herself indulge in what was a midnight fantasy, taking her time kissing Trinity like they were together, like she was hers. Maybe that’s a horrible thing to think, and maybe this is a horrible thing to do; Baran isn’t sure she can find it in herself to care.
And there may be a small, minuscule part of Baran Al-Hashimi that hopes this is the catalyst.
“Alright, yeah,” she agrees. “Where’s your bedroom?” Trinity presses a kiss to her lips before leading her quickly through the apartment. Her bedroom is very her; the floor a little messy but her bed perfectly made, clothes half-shoved into her closet, warm light from the lamp in the corner.
Crawling into her bed, Trinity leans back against her pillows with a sideways grin. Her attention is palpable, and Baran takes the time to carefully peel off her jeans, letting them fall to a heap on the floor. Her shirt follows, leaving her in a pair of light blue underwear that barely covers the curve of her ass. She crawls over top of Trinity, hair pushed to one side as she kisses her.
It’s slow, again. Romantic, almost. Trinity melts into it for a moment, letting herself imagine that this was something more than what it was, her hand cupping Baran’s face. When she pulls back and lets her head fall back down onto the pillow, she bites at her lip. “You’re really okay with doing this? She might get mad.”
“Isn’t that what you’re hoping for?” Baran murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss on her chest, trailing down. Her hands find the hem of her shirt and pull, taking it off of her with practiced ease. “I think I can handle her.”
“Hot.”
“Shut up,” Baran grins, pressing another kiss along her chest, down her stomach. She pushes Trinity’s skirt up to her waist, humming. “No underwear? And you were giving me shit for not wearing a bra?”
“Hey, you know my circumstances.” Trinity says with a grin, spreading her knees further. As Baran settles in between them, Trinity takes to typing Garcia’s number into her phone. “Go slow, at first.” She says just as Baran’s head dips in close. “I want her to catch on after a little bit.”
Al-Hashimi narrows her eyes in amusement. “You must be really mad at her.” She runs her finger down Trinity’s slit with a hum. “I’ll try and be good.”
Trinity sucks in a shaky breath as she hits call, turning the phone on speaker and holding it. She keeps her eyes glued on Baran as she licks a slow stripe up her cunt, moaning loudly. “Sorry,” she mumbles when Baran snorts against her, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’ll be quiet, too.”
Garcia answers.
“Hello?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and Trinity can instantly see her; in her bed, tucked between silk sheets, an eye mask slid up to her forehead as she tries to rub away the sleep. How could she know that if they were ‘casual?’ Baran’s eyes stay on Trinity’s face as she flicks her tongue against her clit.
“Hi.”
“Oh, hey, Trinity.” As Garcia talks, Baran closes her eyes and focuses on the taste of Trinity’s cunt, heady and sweet. Every little lick makes her thighs twitch against Baran’s shoulders, making her clit throb under her tongue. “Did you need something, or…?”
“Uhm, no, I was, uh,” Trinity swallows back a moan, eyebrows threading together as she feels the pad of Baran’s finger press against her hole, her tongue swirling slowly around her clit. She clears her throat and tries again, face warm and heart pounding in her chest at her actions. “No, sorry, I just wanted to talk.”
Yolanda sighs into the phone, the shifting of fabric following after. “I thought we came to an agreement last time we talked.” Trinity frowns, irritation building, before she runs her hand over Baran’s hair in encouragement. Baran’s brown eyes flick up to meet hers and Trinity nods, giving her permission like she can read the question on her face. Baran pushes her finger in deeper, pushing past the ring of resistance and eliciting a small moan.
“W-We did. We really did.” Trinity says, rolling her hips against Baran’s finger to take it deeper. “That’s why I’m calling, actually. To let you know I, mmph, did what you said.”
“Oh, yeah?” Yolanda asks low into the phone, intrigue evident in her voice. If Baran wasn’t busy, she’d scoff. “So, you slept with someone?” Trinity hums in the affirmative. She grins down at Baran, like the two of them are in on some private joke, and Baran tries to ignore the flutter in her chest. “Who?”
“Someone you know.”
“Really?” Yolanda says, amused. “Are you gonna tell me or should I guess, baby?”
“You won’t be able to guess.”
“No? Let me try, then, and if I get it... you have to tell me what you did with her.” Her tone leaves no room for debate, and Baran feels Trinity shiver against her mouth. She redoubles her efforts, tongue licking faster, pushing in a second finger and curling them up until she feels her pussy tighten, as Yolanda talks. “Was it… Dr. Javadi?”
Trinity snorts a little. “Crash? No. What’s your obsession with that?”
“I think you two like each other.” Yolanda teases before rattling off a few more names. Trinity denies them all, voice catching as Baran sucks at her clit, body jerking at the sensation. “Give me a hint, then.”
“She’s new.” Trinity says. Yolanda falls silent on the other end, and Baran watches Trinity’s smile sharpen, satisfied. “You hear me?”
“You’re saying you fucked Al-Hashimi?” Yolanda asks thinly and Baran laughs against Trinity’s clit, her fingers pumping faster at the mention of her own name. She imagines Yolanda catching on, hanging up in disgust, Trinity begging her to keep going, to let her cum, to fuck her, be with her. A shiver runs down her spine. Garcia scoffs. “Yeah, right. Funny joke, Trin.”
Trinity moans under her breath at the effort Baran is putting in, rolling her hips against her tongue. “I’m not joking,” she pants, her attempts at muffling her moans failing the longer Baran finger fucks her. “Fuck, I’m telling the truth, baby. Listen,” she whines, shoving her hand, and the phone, down closer to her cunt.
Baran moans, fingers pushing deeper into Trinity, curling at the right angle to show off how fucking wet she was. The slick sound fills the room. “You taste so good, Trinity,” she says, eyes flicking back up to her face as she laughs, panting against her cunt. Moaning again, Baran sticks out her tongue, mouth open as she licks at her clit. She isn’t even over-exaggerating to try and piss off Garcia–though that was a plus, obviously–she really, truly, honest to god meant it.
She meant to moan because of how good Trinity tasted. She meant to tell her that because she deserved to hear it from someone else's mouth, and she meant for Trinity to hear it from someone who actually gave a shit about how she felt. Nevermind the reasoning of why she’s here right now; all that matters is that this is the start of something between them, she can feel it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yolanda sneers into the phone. “Al-Hashimi, Trinity, really? That’s low.” Trinity lets out a breathy whine, nodding as if Yolanda is right there next to her watching. She palms at her tit, pulling down her bra to roll her nipple between her fingers, letting out an unrestrained whimper. Baran laps at Trinity’s cunt, fingers pumping in and out of her hole, free arm holding her waist down against the mattress.
“Y-you said you, fuck, wanted me to!” Trinity says, fingers lacing between the strands of Baran’s hair to tug her face forwards, closer, until the only thing she can do is suckle at Trinity’s clit. “I’m so fucking close,” she whines, voice cracking as Baran pushes in a third finger. Trinity’s thighs shake, knees digging into Baran’s shoulders.
Al-Hashimi forces her eyes open, looking up at Trinity’s flushed face. She waits for the shoe to drop, for the familiar sound of a phone call ending abruptly, for Trinity to toss the fucking thing to the side and grab her head with both hands and ride her face and her fingers until she finishes.
Instead, what she hears is Yolanda’s honey-like voice purring into the receiver. “Yeah? What’s she doing to you, baby?”
“S-she’s, fuck, she’s eating my pussy.”
Yolanda moans softly on the other end of the call, the sound of fabric shifting and her voice again, clearer than before. “How’s she doing it, Trinity? The way you like?” Baran’s tongue and fingers slow just a tad. “She got you riding her tongue?”
“No…”
“No? Why? Too worried it won’t be as good as when I do it?” Yolanda asks, breath hitching slightly. Trinity whines, the image of her Yolanda shoving her hand down between her legs flashing through her mind, half focused on her voice and Baran’s tongue which had come to a snail's pace, edging her. “Can she hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Hey, Dr. Al-Hashimi, you enjoying yourself?”
Baran groans as she pulls her mouth away from Trinity’s cunt, chin slick with wetness. “I was.”
“Mhm, I bet you were. Doesn’t she taste great?” She sighs into the phone like she’s reminiscing, and Trinity squirms on the bed, her hand attempting to push Baran’s mouth back onto her. “If you really want to hear her squeal, tell her to sit on your face.”
“Garcia-”
“She’ll like it, trust me. Won’t you, Trinity, baby?” Yolanda purrs into the phone, condescension dripping through the cracks. Trinity answers with another whine and a quick, desperate nod of her head which was mostly for Baran’s sake, who was still holding her hips down onto the mattress. “See? Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Are you scared or something? I am giving you permission.”
Baran scoffs, warm breath blowing against Trinity’s throbbing cunt before she sits up onto her knees. “I’m not scared, and if I remember correctly, you are not the one who tells me what to do.” Her jaw clenches as she tries to rein in her annoyance; how someone could get under her skin without even being in the room, she’ll never understand.
“I want it,” Trinity chimes in, breathless and wanting. Her chest is heaving, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body as she pushes herself up onto her knees too, phone still clutched in her hand. “Please, Baran?”
“Jesus, you two are on a first-name basis now?” Yolanda groans into the phone, but Baran ignores her. It’s easy too, now, with the way Trinity is looking at her, like if she didn’t get what she needed she’d die right then and there. She swaps spots with her, laying flat on the bed. Yolanda speaks again, antsy. “Did you do it yet?”
Trinity wastes no time. She shimmies off her skirt before swinging her leg over her head before Baran is even comfortable, leaning forwards onto Baran’s body to get her cunt as close to her mouth as she could. Her hips rock forwards, Baran’s tongue sliding between her folds as she groans. “Oh, fuck!”
“Guess so,” Yolanda quips before finally falling silent. Trinity tosses the phone beside her on the bed as her hips undulate against Baran’s mouth, her mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. “God, Trin, you sound so fucking good,” she sighs, Trinity’s tits pressed into Baran’s stomach, her head laying against her Baran’s thigh as she lets her body go limp.
Baran holds Trinity's hips down tighter to her face, moving her head side to side as Trinity starts to hump her tongue. Fuck talking, fuck breathing; she wants to make her finish. She wants Trinity to moan her name, to thank her for making her feel this good, for helping her out when she needed it. And she really wants to make Yolanda hear it, too.
That was the point of doing Trinity this favor, wasn’t it? For Yolanda to hear and regret her actions and take her back?
Sure, Baran would prefer if that last bit never happened, but she wasn’t stupid, far from it in fact. She didn’t need to hear Trinity admit she really cared about her because she can taste it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Trinity whines, barely able to form a thought anymore. Her clit throbbed with each one of her movements. “I wanna cum, I wanna cum, please, fuck, let me cum.” She begs to no one in particular, tears building in her eyes, hips jerking wildly against Baran’s face.
“You better return the favor.” Yolanda says into the phone, a muffled buzzing noise coming from her end. “I didn’t teach you to be greedy, did I?”
Trinity shudders, forcing herself to sit up a bit, shaky hands pushing Baran’s legs apart. “No you didn’t,” she confirms quickly before she’s hooking her finger into the wet fabric of Baran’s blue panties, pulling them to the side, and settling her mouth over her cunt.
Baran gasps sharply, hips jerking upwards against Trinity's tongue. One of her legs lifts, calf pressing against the top of her head to push it down closer. “Oh, fuck!” She whines as her eyes roll into the back of her head. Going from nothing, no friction besides the occasional squeezing of her thighs, to this… it’s enough to knock her off balance.
“Tell me what she’s doing.” Yolanda asks, and for once her voice isn’t filled with the smug, self-confident smile that Baran had come to hate. It was breathier, more desperate. “C’mon, if you won’t show me, the least you can do is tell me what to think about, right?”
“Your girlfriend’s eating my pussy, Garcia.” Baran says sharply and Trinity moans against her cunt, hips jerking overtop of her mouth before Baran licks at her core again. The buzzing on the phone gets louder and–though she tries not to, she swears–Baran whimpers at the picture unfolding in her head.
Yolanda lit only by the lamp beside her bed. Covers pushed off of her, legs spread wide and pajama bottoms hanging from one ankle. She can picture the toy–one that plugs into the wall, probably–pressed flushes against her pussy, right there on her clit, her hips moving languidly against it. Her eyes are probably closed, head back against the wall or the pillows while she thought about how Trinity Santos looks getting tongue fucked by the woman she hates the most.
Redoubling her efforts, Baran focuses on Trinity’s clit as best she can, tongue lavishing the bundle of nerves and holding her flush against her mouth. Moans pour uselessly out of both of their mouths, warm breath against sensitive skin, heat growing steadily in their guts.
Trinity is the first to cum. She does so as Baran shoves her tongue inside her, fingers sneaking underneath to rub at her clit with her thumb. “Oh, god!” She cries out, hips twitching against her tongue and fingers. Trinity’s tongue hangs from her mouth as she pants, replacing her lips with the pads of her three fingers. “I-I want you to cum, Baran, please!” She whines, legs shaking with the effort of holding herself up.
Baran’s tongue doesn’t stop moving, but it slows down, the occasional slow, long lick lapping at Trinity’s slit making her let out a few soft mewls. “Don’t stop, Trinity, just like that, sweetheart.” Baran says against her pussy, breathless. Her hips rock against Trinity's fingers as they pick up speed, rubbing tight harsh circles against her. “You’re doing so good, oh my god!”
The praise seems to reignite Trinity, replacing her fingers with her tongue and pushing two of her fingers, wet with Baran’s own cum, inside her hole. She struggles to push past the first knuckle for only a second, letting out a small grunt of effort before they push through.
“You’re so tight,” she says dreamily, pumping and curling her fingers into her cunt, laughing when Baran’s leg tries to push her closer. “And you taste so fucking sweet. Can you show her how good I did? I want you to cum, show her I can make you cum!”
Baran, for a moment, wishes she could pull back and leave with her dignity (mostly) intact. But when she pushes past the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, she can hear Yolanda on the other end of the phone, forgotten, panting and whining while she touches herself to something she can’t even see. She wasn’t here, not in any way that counts.
She cums with a loud groan, back arching off of the bed and her legs shaking. Her fingers dig into the fat of Trinity’s hips as she shudders, toes curling. Trinity’s pace never falters, fingers pumping into her quickly and curling up, her palm replacing her tongue as it slaps against her clit. She coo’s out a reassuring compliment, slowing down when Baran makes a half-garbled attempt at telling her to give her a second.
“O-oh, fuck, that sounded- mmph!” Yolanda shudders, cumming with a bitten back groan. The buzzing stops. The three of them remain silent, catching their breaths. Trinity lazily pumps her fingers into Baran’s drenched pussy, fascinated at the ring of white around her knuckles and each little jolt underneath her. Baran’s hands drag up and down Trinity’s ass and back, fingers caressing the skin and soothing the marks she had accidentally given.
Garcia breaks the silence. “That was hot, even for you Baran.” She says, confidence sliding back into place like there was nowhere else it could go. “Call me in the morning, Trin. Have fun.”
She’s gone before either of them can react. Trinity sighs, disappointed. “She was kind of a buzzkill, huh?” She tries to joke as she shakily swings her leg around, flopping onto her back beside Baran who stares up at the ceiling, dazed. Trinity lets her head tilt to her side, looking up between her lashes at the woman in her bed. “You okay?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, of course.” Baran says with a small nod. She takes a deep breath as she brushes her hair from her face, sweaty strands sticking to her skin. She looks down at Trinity and her lips subconsciously twitch into a smile. “You were amazing. I know her reaction wasn’t… wasn’t what you were hoping for, but I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”
“You made me cum faster than I have in the last three months,” Trinity says teasingly, sitting up onto her elbows, face covered in a sly grin and a flush. “You definitely didn’t disappoint me.” Wetting her lips, she takes a second to really look at Baran, really take in what just happened.
The focused pleasure, the attentiveness, the awkwardly optimistic demeanor after the fact; it was all so unlike anything she’s experienced before. It wasn’t that Garcia was selfish in bed–quite the opposite, actually–but she had a role and she played it. Trinity did, too. She moaned when she should, licked where she was told, came when she was given permission. Something tells her that with Baran, none of those rules apply.
The freedom fans the sparks of something that was smoldering inside her.
Sitting up fully, Trinity leans over to press a kiss to Baran’s hopeful face. “You don’t have to leave yet,” she murmurs against her lips, pulling back just enough to look in her eyes. “If, you know… you wanted to do something that she won’t know about.”
Baran could say no and go back home, back to life as she knew it. But that wasn’t the option that could lead to something real.
“Yeah,” she says softly, nodding. “What do you have in mind?”