it's an angel

Working in Hawkins Lab rarely sees a day come and go without some form of excitement, and normally never any of the good kind. You’re grateful at times to not be up front dealing with the worst of it. 

Most days, you prefer to situate yourself in a quiet office, happily tending to whatever admin work may need to be dealt with. Paperwork feels endless, though you’d rather deal with this than whatever experimentation Dr Brenner has put his foot into. Just reading the files and hearing his retellings of the fascinating boy he’s been studying has been enough thrill for you. 

You’ve been involved enough with the doctor over the past couple of months to have heard plenty of stories. More involved that any of the other staff have the privilege of being. In the time you’ve known him, and even within the time you’ve been seeing him, he’s been nothing short of mannerly. Not once so far has he stepped over the line, keeping his distance and remaining professional at work, and even when alone your activities have always stayed very appropriate. Nothing more than short kisses and gentle touches up to this point. 

Dr Brenner is confident, and seems to always have his wits about him - though this demeanor slips up sometimes when you look up at him in a certain sweet way while he talks to you in the lab. Even so, he remains ever the professional at work, though you do sense his attention being drawn away from his tasks and to you much more often than it maybe should be. In this sense, you sometimes think that getting your work done may be easier the further you are from him, finding each other's presence to very often be a distracting one. 

Today, like many days, you’ve found a quiet office away from the busiest areas to allow yourself to work in peace. The hours pass quickly. 

You’re so deep in your work that you don’t notice a commotion start up at some point somewhere in the lab, until the very person at the centre of it comes bursting straight through your office door. 

The door flies open with such force that you worry it may break off of the hinges totally. The suddenness gives you a start, making you jump and pulling your attention instantly away from the paperwork in front of you. 

The sight takes you a moment to adjust to. 

A slightly hunched over Dr Brenner appears before you. His usually proud shoulders are slumped, and he visibly winces with each step in your direction while a large hand presses flat against his side. He stares you down with wide eyes and chest heaving, as though still processing whatever the hell it is that’s going on. 

The blood on his face startles you when you see it, having not fully registered it within the first few moments following his very sudden arrival. A slash across his nose begins to bleed, crimson gathering on his cheeks and some on his forehead too. 

“The boy-“ before you can even ask about the incident, Dr Brenner blinks quickly and begins to make an attempt to stand straight. He pats down his suit, as though trying to make himself look presentable. The blood adorning his features certainly doesn’t help him to do so. “He’s gone. It worked, he’s-”

“Dr Brenner, you’re injured, I-“ He looks briefly taken aback by his title coming from you. Though used to calling him by his first name on the outside, addressing him correctly whilst working inside the lab allows you to preserve some shred of a professional relationship, and you try to do so when you can. You focus your thoughts on his injuries - the more you look at his face, the more blood you notice. Swirling thoughts present endless possibilities as to what may have caused it. “Your face. Please, allow me to clean you up?”

“No.” The self assured doctor is short and stern in his answer. “I’m alright, that’s not necessary.” 

This statement is very evidently a lie. You’re surprised he even expects you to believe it, and it makes you wonder why he’s even arrived to your office in the first place. 

“But you’re bleeding-“

“I’m fine. I just…” He looks away for just a moment, before clearing his throat. An attempt to straighten himself sees him sucking in a sharp breath before returning to the way he was. “The boy was… violent. I thought I’d better check the rooms before I continue onwards.”

You assume that the boy had something to do with the way Dr Brenner is now acting. You also begin to assume that his sudden arrival in front of you has very little to do with the violence, and much more to do with him seeking his own comfort away from it, even if he’s far too proud to admit it.  

As though reaffirming this thought, he takes another few small steps towards you. There’s something in his eyes at first that you don’t quite recognise, until it shifts into a hesitation that stops him in his tracks. An awkward moment of silence sees you scanning his face for a clue that doesn’t come. 

You notice him swallowing hard when you try to bridge the gap towards him, one small step bringing you closer, though you do so cautiously. Something about him seems flighty. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m… I’m fine.” A small nod with lips pressed tightly. “Well, everything seems okay here. I’d best get going…”

Like a sudden case of cold feet has hit him, Dr Brenner starts moving back towards the door before he’s even finished his sentence, although his injured gait betrays his confidence. He doesn’t make it far before his shoulders hunch once again, and thin lips press hard together. It’s evident that he’s far more hurt than he wants you to believe. 

“Really, it would be better if you allowed me to check you.” You shove down a selfish thought about such an act allowing you to be close to him. This doesn’t seem the time to be thinking so inappropriately. 

With a shake of his head, he continues, not even looking your way as he limps towards the exit. Determination was always a very evident trait in him, and a one you’re sure had helped to get him so far in his role. Determination, though, seems to be the best friend of stubbornness in Brenner’s world. 

Your own stubbornness prevails, and you take quick steps to block his way to the exit. Your shorter body stands in his way of it. Though a certain intimidation comes with the way the man towers over you with his eyes narrowed, you’re far too focused on getting him clean to care. Especially since he seems far too prideful to admit that he requires it. 

“Dr Brenner, I insist you must take a seat. Trailing blood around the lab will do no good for anyone.” 

It seems your stern words take his attention. He stares down at you with brows raised, before nodding slowly. His tensed up jaw relaxes only slightly. 

“I suppose you might be right…” he doesn’t quite meet your eye while he admits his defeat. “Don’t want to let myself be known as a walking biohazard.”

Satisfied to have won this battle, you offer him a small smile before moving towards your desk. Dr Brenner is still slow in his movements, and there’s a hint of reluctance in the way he follows behind you, though he does so all the same. 

You pull the chair out from your desk, gesturing for him to sit on it to allow you to begin your treatment. Stepping back to give him room to sit himself down allows you to analyse him as he does so, and you let yourself lean back slightly against the desk while you attempt to deduce some form of a diagnosis from his staggered movements. 

Now that he’s settled and sat, you find a clean tissue nearby and begin to go about your work quietly. Your first priority is to remove all of the blood and to assess how badly he’s injured. Some time passes in silence while you dab the tissue slowly on his skin in an attempt to clean up his wounds. With your own gaze fixed on them, you don’t initially notice the way his stare is fixed to you. It takes some time to even see it in your peripheral vision. 

When you do meet his gaze, there’s a grateful glint in his eye, and a slight softness to his face while he watches you work. It’s as though there’s some appreciation on his mind that he can’t quite articulate now. When he speaks up and addresses you, there’s a tender edge to it, though he still sounds somehow professional. 

“So helpful, for you to do this. Thoughtful. Very kind.” Brenner speaks as though diagnosing you with these words. You can almost picture him writing the description on paper - while they’re complimentary, there’s still something analytical in them that feels as though you are but another one of his tests. 

With the way his eyes begin to scan further down from your face, down to your collarbone now exposed beneath your blouse from being bent down to clean him, you certainly feel as though you are under examination. 

A sharp breath hitches in your throat when his curious stare doesn’t let up. Whilst not totally opposed to his wandering eyes, the intention behind them leaves you confused given the current situation, and your hand hesitates over the skin of his face. 

“Dr Brenner, I-“ The doctor pulls his gaze away swiftly as though remembering himself. A sudden awakening or realisation of where you are. “I really must get your wounds cleaned up.” 

“Of course. Excuse me, my mind is… elsewhere,” Dr Brenner adjusts his seat, swallowing hard as he does so. “Please. Continue.”

Just as instructed, your now uncertain hand returns to its work, patting the skin of his pale face carefully. 

When you’ve finally cleaned up the last of his blood, you set the tissue aside and stand back just a little to inspect him once again. Taking his face in your hands gently allows you to turn it slowly to each side, eyes scanning every inch of it as you do so to ensure you haven’t missed a single spot. You don’t miss the way that his eyes follow you even as his head moves. You opt to ignore this stare in favour of keeping some shred of composure while you hold him like this, but a niggling feeling in the back or your mind of wanting to give in to this tension still remains. 

Eventually, you release your grip, and find that you instantly miss the warmth of his skin against your own. A deep breath to compose yourself before speaking up factually. “They don’t seem too deep. They shouldn’t take too long to heal.”

Even after letting your hands fall to your side, you find your feet stuck where they are, and your eyes remain glued to him. His seem totally fixated on you. 

A thought strikes you, that in the privacy of this quiet office, there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from wanting to address this subtle tension. That thought leads on to a hope for him to act on it. A small part of you begins to wish for him to close this awkward gap. To make the first move. To actually fulfill whatever desire seems to be lingering behind his eyes, and behind his words and movements, something sitting on the tip of his tongue that he’s just the slightest bit too prideful to admit. 

The privacy and proximity both give you some form of confidence, and after locking eyes for so long you can’t help but bite the bullet in this moment. Without you fully expecting it to, your body leans forward, slowly bringing your face closer to his as though acting on its own. Like a magnet pulls you closer and closer to the man staring up at you from his seat below you. Time crawls while you move, and a reluctance still lingers in your mind, making you wish that he would just pull you down and get this initial awkwardness over with. It’s not as though you haven’t kissed the doctor's lips before - but doing so in the office and totally derailing your professional boundary feels that little bit more daring. 

Your breath catches when you finally notice him move. When he does lean forward in an effort to bridge the final gap, his face comes only inches from yours before his approach is cut off with a sharp hiss, features contorting in a brand new pain. The suddenness startles you and makes you jump back. 

“Y-you’re hurt.” You stutter the words out through a newfound nervousness, a sudden realisation hitting as to what was about to happen, cheeks flaming hot when you stand up straight once again. You attempt to swallow down the arousal now clawing up through your system. Wiping your sweaty palms along your skirt, you swallow hard before continuing. “You’ve hurt yourself badly.”

Whatever want had started to spark in his eyes is replaced now with a pained glint. One of his hands is back now on his side, pressed flat against his ribs, evidently rushing to the site of the pain. He clears his throat quietly, not quite meeting your eyes when he responds. “It seems like I have.”

Slowly, you nod. “Can I take a look?”

There’s a few moments of silence before Dr Brenner gives a small nod. With a slight shrug he begins to remove his outer layers, discarding his coat before moving to undo his tie and work on the buttons of his vest. It takes some strength to not stare too perversely at the way his fingers do it. Out of some attempt at respect, you look away for a moment when he moves to unbutton his shirt. 

When you do turn back to face him, his shirt is undone though it still sits loosely on his shoulders, and he has pulled it apart enough to allow you to get a good view of his skin. It’s the first time you’ve been able to fully see his bare chest, having not gone much further than an innocent kiss or a suggestive placement of a hand at this point of your relationship, and you allow yourself just a moment of an indulgent ogle. Tunnel vision on the faintly suggestive lines of lean muscle along his stomach stops you from even noticing his injury at first. The view makes your skin heat up. After a moment you realise his eyes are boring into you, and this fact stokes the fire already burning on your cheeks. You force yourself to resist a longer look and to pay attention to the task at hand. 

Your eyes widen when they finally meet his injured side. It had been obvious that he was in pain, though you’re still surprised to see the intensity of the physical evidence. The pale skin along one side of his rib cage has already started to bruise, dark shades blossoming along his flank.  

Shuffling closer, you raise both hands to touch the dark skin, but not before glancing briefly at his face in search of approval. Once he nods, you trail your fingers carefully along the damaged area, feeling along his rib cage while he watches. Though you try to be delicate in your investigations, every prod at the tender skin leaves him tensing.

Another brief flick up to his face tells you that he’s not watching your work - rather, he’s watching your face, and the way you look while you inspect him.  

After returning to your task for a few moments, you’re too lost in your assessment to notice the rise of his hand that rests closest to you, but you become very aware of it when you jump at the feeling of a cold knuckle against your knee. For a moment you wonder if the touch is accidental, a result of your movement and the way his arm rests down along his side as he sits, but this theory is disproven when it stays there. 

The theory is thrown completely out of the window when you feel it begin to move. 

A knuckle grazes along your leg as he slowly moves it up, skirt going along with the ascent, steadily and methodically tracing a line up towards your already aching heat. You shiver at the feeling of a chill hitting your newly bare legs. 

A part of you still wonders if this may be an idle action, the doctor too deep in thought to truly register his own movements, though the way half lidded eyes have started to follow the path of his hand shows he’s very aware of it. Whilst certainly not opposed to his wandering touch, the time and place where he is acting on his desire to explore has you baffled. You wonder if you may have been right to assume he has come to you seeking personal comfort after all. 

The digits move higher, slowing their pace only inches from the junction of your thigh, and when they freeze in place you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. This pulls his attention back to your reddening face. 

“Dr Brenner?” It’s spoken more feebly than you had hoped. The tremble in your tone is evident. A mixture of uncertainty and a very steadily blossoming arousal. 

“Hm?” Hummed so sweetly, so innocently, as though unaware of what you may be alluding to. 

“Do you…” another shake in your speech. It takes a large amount of discipline to will your mind to remain on your task. “Do you want me to continue to check your injuries?”

“Continue.” A smirk pulls his lips up. “Don’t let my wandering distract you.”

Darkened eyes cast themselves away from your evidently embarrassed features and back to his act. You stiffen as the hand moves further, the climb still so slow, and your eyes flutter when you feel a knuckle brush against the spot where your thigh meets the hem of your knickers. The longer they rest in their position so close to your sensitive heat, the more maddening the wait becomes. It grows gradually more difficult to fight back the urge to push your hungry hips forward in order to press yourself against his hand in search of any slight friction you can find. 

Before your excitement can even truly begin, he withdraws this touch. Though your will is strong, it proves impossible to stop a quiet whine from escaping you at the feeling. The sound only pulls the corners of his lips up higher as shadowed eyes flick to your face for a moment. There’s a wickedness behind them that only pushes your desperation more. Now, he moves his hand instead to the back of your thigh, long fingers stretching across the skin with his palm pressed against it. It’s a comfortable hold on your leg. A much more comfortable and intimate hold than could be deemed professional in any sort of context. 

It takes a lot of power to ignore this new touch, along with the frustration building up in your body at just how close he came to touching your more sensitive parts. 

“I-It’s definitely injured…” Focusing as much as you can on his injury, your voice is low while you debate the diagnosis, and you mentally scold yourself for stating the very obvious. Whilst he’s certainly restrained in his movements, he doesn’t seem to be damaged enough for anything serious to have snapped. “Though not overly swollen. It doesn’t seem like anything is broken.”

There’s a silence while you give one last check over his side. His jaw seems tense, and when you poke at a particularly sensitive spot of his rib, the hold on your leg tightens slightly with a wince. Short nails dig ever so slightly into the skin just below your arse. 

When this action makes you gasp, he mutters out an apology with a sigh.

Brushing off the very tense feeling that’s filling your bones, you lean back just a little to address him properly with your final medical suggestion. The hold on your leg still keeps your feet in place. “It’s best that you get some rest. Do you want something for the pain?”

Dr Brenner tilts his head at this, considering your question, though doesn’t initially respond. The silence makes you feel awkward. His only real acknowledgment of you is a brief flick of his eyes to your own. 

Then, without a word, the hand holding you pulls you in just slightly. It forces your feet to shuffle a few timid inches closer to his long legs. Another pull, and you find your knees brushing against them. 

As though you’re not close enough already, his free hand suddenly comes to roughly pull at your other untouched thigh, dragging the limb over across his own and bringing you to settle into a straddle on his lap. The action brings a deep crimson fire up your cheeks, happening so swiftly and unexpectedly but certainly not unwantedly. 

Timid hands fiddle with each other in front of you. Having been busy only moments before, you’re now uncertain as to what you should even do with them. You allow yourself a curious glance down at his still bare chest, then back up again to his face when he begins to speak. 

“No…” At first you don’t register that he’s finally answering your query, but then he continues. “No, no. I should be alright for now.”

A firm hand still on your thigh keeps you in place on his lap while the other finds your hair. Long fingers tangle through it on the back of your head, a tingle going down through your spine at the feeling, and for a moment he just looks at you - stares up at you expectantly, as though awaiting any potential objection - before pulling your face down to meet him. His lips meet yours initially hesitantly, before the hand in your hair brings you even closer to deepen the kiss. 

It takes you a moment to adjust to it - you never would have expected that simply healing his injuries could ever lead up to something like this - but it’s absolutely not an unwelcome act. Nervous hands find his shoulders slowly, holding gently and steadying yourself better in his lap, and he responds to your grip with a tightening of his. Now that your touch has given him a green light he pulls you closer swiftly. Your front moves towards his own, and this closer proximity finds you hovering just over his bulge. An awareness of your position makes you feel hot between the legs, but a hesitation stops you from settling down and allowing that heat to meet him. 

You don’t stay like that for long - Dr Brenner raises his hips an inch to meet yours, allowing his bulge to push up against you. It’s a relief, a long awaited desire now fulfilled, to feel this movement against your sensitive spot. You use little effort to stop the quiet moan that escapes against your mouth. A low hum from him conveys his equally relieved approval. 

With this little bit of encouragement, you find you can’t help but push down just a little bit harder. 

Your fingers press into his shoulders while you rock your hips, small movements giving you just enough pleasure to feel a spark start up low in your stomach, and his grip on you tightens when you move just the slightest bit quicker. He rests his own hips once yours pick up just enough to have you both feeling the friction. It wouldn’t take much investigation for you to know that you’re already wet from this act. With such a desire burning for him, it hasn’t taken much for you to turn into putty in his lap. 

Dr Brenner doesn’t let you go until he absolutely has to. By the time he does, your chests both heave, the sound of pants filling the room while your eyes lock once again. There’s a faint redness to his cheeks that you don’t believe you’ve ever noticed before - it’s unlike him to be anything less than cool and composed. 

Just as you’ve managed to catch your breath Dr Brenner shifts slightly, eyes trailing down and landing on the spot where both of your bodies meet. A smirk tugs at his lips when his gaze reaches the area of your arousal. 

“You’re eager.” He states it as a fact, like some scientific finding, eyes glued to the spot where his covered erection meets your heat. Looking down to follow his gaze, you see you’ve already left a very obvious wet stain on his navy suit. 

The sight sends you into a very mild panic - it prompts you to push yourself up in embarrassment, stuttering an apology while attempting to break the contact and wanting to avoid any further marking, though this isn’t something he seems to be pleased with. Both hands grab your hips roughly to bring you back down into the same position on his lap.  

“Don’t be shy,” he tilts his head, staring at you with a mockingly innocent smile. “I don’t mind it. Keep going.”

“But, your suit, Dr Brenner-“

“It’s fine. Keep going.” His gaze remains glued to you. His already harsh grip roughens, large hands pulling you to help to continue your pace. “And please just call me Martin. We’ve already thrown professionalism far out the window.”

Normally, you might second guess this, and would be tempted to retreat in embarrassment over the very obvious effect the doctor is having on you. This, however, just feels far too good to run away from. After a moment of thought, you ease yourself back down once again, gradually allowing yourself to grind softly and just the vaguest bit hesitantly against him. 

This obedience seems to please him - his eyes flash with something darker, head tilting back with a relieved sigh at the return of your pressure, and he sits back very slightly to watch you while you begin to chase your satisfaction. The way his eyes seem to analyse your features brings a hint of shyness back to you, but it’s forgotten very quickly when his own hips move to rut up against you. They don’t do so for long - unable to move too hastily with his current injured state - though just that brief added stimulation is enough to erase the embarrassment from your mind. You pick up a steady rhythm, and can’t help but let your sounds of pleasure fall out into the room while you move on his clothed erection. 

Martin stays as he is, hands still guiding your eager hips while his eyes stay fixated on your face, his own lips parted with a look of awe and pleasure. The pressure of you pushing against his erection isn’t quite enough to get him to his finish, but the way he looks along with an occasional quiet grunt tells you it feels good all the same. 

Even if it was enough to bring him up to his own peak, Martin finds himself in this moment to be less focused on his own excitement, and far more interested in watching the ways in which your body reacts to yours. 

After allowing you to grind against his bulge a little bit longer, getting you dangerously close to falling over the edge of your pleasure, he freezes his hands on your hips to hold them in place and stop your frantic movements. At first you open your mouth to instinctively start to protest, until one hand leaves your hips to dive down between you legs, and your eyes widen when you feel it graze along the folds there. 

“Sorry for the… interruption.” Long fingers move your underwear aside swiftly, before running along your already dripping heat, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling. This newly direct touch draws out a quiet whimper from you that seems to leave him satisfied. “I just want to see exactly how I make you feel.”

For a moment he enjoys the sight of his own hand between your legs. Long fingers stroke you gently, moving slowly and almost teasingly as though testing you, and the soft noises you make at his mercy leave him enthralled. 

Another protesting whine leaves your lips when he abruptly removes his hand. Before you can even begin to complain, the sound of a zipper being undone leaves you holding your tongue, the realisation quickly dawning on you of what his next move will be. You’re suddenly much less annoyed at the current lack of stimulation you’re receiving. 

When he pulls himself free, already hard and leaking just a little, you can’t help but find your stare drawn to the way he looks in his own hand. You notice your slick still glistens on his fingers. Martin runs his hand along himself to spread it along the veiny skin with a gasp, and the sight of your wetness on his cock leaves you aching to feel it in any way you can. Your lips part while your eyes fixate on it. If he’s staring up at you, as he usually does, you’re far too enamoured by his now wet cock to notice it. 

Then, after only a moment of allowing you to enjoy this sight, he moves himself to line up with you and prepares to finally allow you to feel him just as you wished. 

It doesn’t take much for Martin to push himself in - the very kind doctor knows enough about anatomy to have prepared you very well, to the point that him filling you almost feels more like a long awaited relief than an outright intense pleasure. Sounds of pleasure fill the room as you lower yourself inch by inch, paying little regard to your location in the lab, and even less regard to the fact that anyone could be on the other side of the office door.  An initial pressure gives way to a very satisfying full feeling the further he enters you. 

It’s a tender moment, once you finally relax into his lap with him buried deep inside you. A first, and definitely not a last, having not gotten as far as even to see each other nude before now. Of all of the places you would have imagined he would have first taken you, the lab would have been high on your list of wild fantasies, though very low on your list of realistic possibilities. 

You begin to crave more after adjusting for just a moment. Holding tightly still to his shoulders, you slowly begin to ride him in the chair, enjoying the feeling of being so much closer to him now than ever before. 

It seems like he enjoys admiring you while you move. Half lidded eyes track the steady rise and fall of your hips before moving slowly upwards. Rather than enjoy the view of you sinking down around him over and over, he finds himself gazing once again at your ever changing face. 

His gaze is observant, and almost analytical, as though studying your expression while he starts to see you come undone. His eyes dart to each and every shift in your features, brows furrowed slightly like he’s mentally noting every change - the twitch of your lips, the way your eyes flutter closed, the way your face screws up. It’s as though he wants to assess the way each movement makes you feel. 

Maybe it’s even an attempt to memorise your favourite sensations for another future meeting. 

You can’t help but feel flattered by the way he seems so focused on you, as well as just the slightest bit shy, but the latter feeling evaporates when your pleasure begins to build. 

Another curiosity seems to occur to him while you ride him, the curious doctor always looking for more information. One hand moves up, beginning to quickly unbutton your blouse while trying his best to not pop the buttons off in his rush, a task made more difficult when you begin to pick up your pace with a quiet whine. His own hand hardly stays steady with the way his own satisfaction slowly mounts. Once open just enough, he slips the blouse down your shoulders, leaving your front mostly bare. Pulling your breasts free has him wetting his lips while admiring the view.

“Such a pretty sight…” you barely hear it when he whispers it, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to fully register it. 

It’s easy to get lost in the sensation of him in you, and to admire the way he looks underneath you, and it isn’t long before your movements become just a little more jagged. A tingle spreads from your stomach and you chase that feeling with your movements, sensing now that you’re getting closer to your finish, and by the way his groans grow louder it seems that he may be near that end too. 

When Martin notices you getting close, the tips of his fingers press harsher into your hips, his own sounds of pleasure becoming a little less controlled. He ruts up against you as well as he can with his damaged body, movements now rougher while he chases his own high within you. Your desperate sounds spur him on. 

“That’s it, come on -“ he cuts himself off with a low hum up his throat when you rock your hips a little more. “Follow that feeling, finish this pleasure for me.”

One of his hands finally rises to touch your breasts, having enjoyed the sight of them in his face for so long, fingers carefully flicking over a sensitive nipple while you ride him. This one little action derails you entirely - the heat in your stomach swells up into an explosion, pleasure rushing through every inch of your body with a moan while you begin to finally ride out your finish. 

Those same attentive eyes remain focused on only you now as you finally reach your peak. 

The intensity of your orgasm makes you buckle, forcing you to bend and bury your face into his neck to stifle your moans. The hands that had been on his shoulders move up to grip onto his hair, and he inhales sharply when you accidentally pull at it slightly. At this sudden embrace, long fingers move from your hip to spread across the small of your back to pull you closer, bringing your own body flush against his while you whine against his skin. He continues to rut through your orgasm, even through his own pain, his thrusts senseless and moans verging on desperate before eventually he stills completely with a loud groan beside your ear.

You allow yourself a moment of rest like this while totally breathless. His hand that had been on your breast moves to wrap around your middle, and the other moves to join it and pull you into a tight embrace. You enjoy it, to be so close and so intimate with him, and the thought of ever having to move yourself away from him leaves you already feeling a preemptive emptiness. 

When you do eventually push yourself up to look down at him again, his appearance is an almost satisfying one. You’ve never seen him look so disheveled. His unbuttoned shirt barely hangs off of his shoulders. Normally neatly combed hair is rough and tousled from your hands. If his appearance wasn’t already enough evidence of the act he just engaged in, his heaving chest and pink cheeks would make it obvious enough. 

You take some mild satisfaction in knowing that you’re the reason for his undoing. 

Gradually, your body begins to relax, coming down slowly from your high while he holds you. Those analytical eyes still watch you, still studying your expressions while you gaze down at him. You’re too tired and satisfied now to take on any shyness from his stare. 

Without the sounds of your pleasure filling the room, you suddenly feel much more aware of your location. When your ears pick up the normal background noise of the lab out in the hallway, the reality of this situation begins to register. The reality suddenly hits, the scene you’ve found yourself in, sitting in the doctor’s lap while the rest of the lab’s work continues outside the office door. Your colleagues walking the halls and working hard while Dr Brenner softens inside you, his warm spend still filling you. 

Martin doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by this as you do. His head cocks to the side as tired eyes take in your suddenly worried expression, but then he wraps his hold tighter to pull you down to rest against him once again. Taking your lips into a much more tender kiss than before, he hums quietly. He does tense slightly when you lean against his body, the pain relief of his pleasure gone now that his orgasm has totally finished, but he enjoys the warmth or your skin against his own and the feeling of your mouth on his all the same.