nessie

✦   “POP A VIAGRA pill if you can’t keep up,” baran sneers under her breath at robinavitch. her hands move with grace in well-practiced motions as she slides off her shirt and sets it neatly on the floor. on the opposite side of the bed is michael, who’s more frantic in his undressing, stripping down and tossing his clothes into a messy pile.

in the midst of kicking away his pants, he replies, “i think i’ll keep up just fine, al-hashimi.”

“it’s been a long day. if you can’t,” she continues, “there’s always the option.”

you’d think they were fighting from the way they speak to each other, all sly and cutting. snappy words, however, can’t hide the tender way in which robinavitch helps al-hashimi out of her bra when the clasp snags on her hair. his brown eyes focus on baran’s back until he finally frees the problem curl and undoes the hooks holding her bra together.

“i’ll take that,” she murmurs, but he’s already taken it for himself, shooting her a playful look.

“i think i’ll keep it, for now,” michael replies, setting it amongst his things. “for leverage.” al-hashimi rolls her eyes but makes no move to retrieve it, instead climbing onto the bed. the mattress dips ever so slightly as she crawls on her knees towards the center, laying down on her side. sighing, she turns her gaze to the bathroom door.

“always takes a moment,” robby hums as he gets on the bed, sliding himself beside her. he pauses, then pokes her side playfully, “staring isn’t gonna speed things up.”

baran scoffs, swatting his hand away. “i’m here for our resident, not for you.”

“ouch. you wound me, al-hashimi.” all the while, his lips find the back of her neck, pressing insistent, damning little kisses along the skin. “as if you’d leave without your special bra. looked expensive. i never pegged you as a woman who’d wear lace.”

“michael,” she starts sharply, which is enough to get him to pause. his hand comes up slowly to caress from her hip down to her thigh, his eyes darting from his hand, speckled with freckles and veins, to her leg, smooth but not without its own signs of aging.

“for the record, i think it’s pretty,” he mumbles into her ear, but her attention’s not on him anymore. instead, baran’s focus rests on the bathroom door, watching as it opens.

they both perk as you appear in the doorway, your head slightly tilted. “you two playing nice?”

“of course,” robby replies, pulling away from baran to prop himself up on his elbows. “we don’t fight, do we al-hashimi?”

a smirk graces the other attending’s lips, her eyes sparkling. “never.”

your voice drips with sarcasm as you give a fake, “ha-ha” followed by a sarcastic, “very convincing”. casually, you stride towards them, climbing halfway onto the bed before noting the lack of space. length-wise, the bed was perfect. width-wise, however, it could barely fit the two attendings, much less you in the middle of them. “baran, do you mind?”

her arms open wide, her right hand gesturing for you to crawl on top. “not at all.” her lips find your forehead, your cheeks, and your lips as soon as she’s got you in reach— “you put on something,” she notes, her hands holding you firmly by the waist, “smells nice.” another kiss lands along your chin before she adds, “you probably put it around your ankles, too.”

“nice to know you’re always observational, baran,” michael quips from beside you both. with a quiet grunt he raises himself up, half-crawling on his knees before he manages to get behind you. it’s easy for him to lift one of your legs, bringing your ankle to his nose before letting go; all the while, al-hashimi’s holding you to keep you from falling, and kissing you enough to make you grow wet. “it does smell good,” he agrees, chuckling softly, “but really, your ankles? is that a thing, now?”

“it’s always been a thing,” you huff, “i thought it’d be sexy.”

baran’s quick to assure you, kissing down the column of your throat before murmuring, “it is sexy. ignore him.”

you’d try, but it’s impossible to ignore robinavitch’s hands along your body. his left hand grasps your waist right along where al-hashimi’s hand is, some of their fingers overlapping as they attempt to hold you slightly closer than the other. his right finds its way between your legs, and the tips of his index and middle fingers glide along your cunt, feeling traces of slick.

“i didn’t think kisses alone would get you going,” he remarks lowly, parting the lips of your pussy just to hear you whine when he opts not to immediately finger you. “easy, easy. patience.” michael’s hand slips from between your thighs as he moves to grab himself, holding his length steady before lining himself up with your entrance.

the positioning is messy— it always is whenever they’re both in the room. neither attending would ever settle for sitting out and just watching (robby tried once, but couldn’t resist joining in halfway through), so the three of you just do your best to make things work. today, making things work looks like baran and michael both holding you while you’re on your hands and knees above al-hashimi. robinavitch gets the pleasure of fucking you tonight, but baran gets the pleasure of watching your eyes widen as he slides his cock inside of you, and god, what a pleasure that is. your toes curl and your hands grip the sheets a little tighter as robby inches in deeper before bottoming out, filling you up completely.

“feels good, i’m assuming?” she asks, one eyebrow raised as if she doesn’t already know the answer. she slides one hand along the skin of your right side before reaching your breast, gently pressing against your nipple with her thumb. “i’m sure that feels good, too.”

you don’t get the chance to answer right away as michael starts pumping in and out of you. your body rocks with every thrust, your moans and his moans filling the room; baran would never admit it, but it’s one of her favorite sounds, you and robinavitch, together. his grunts are low and loud, a result of the effort he’s putting into fucking you. all your noises are lighter in comparison, the whiny, whimpery sounds of someone who’s taking it rather than giving.

with little grace, robby starts to pick up speed and intensity, letting his dick in all its thickness stretch you out. his grunts turn into groans, groans about how you “take his cock so well” and how your pussy “can’t get enough of him”. filthy things, but all so attractive that you can’t bring yourself to protest them. you can’t keep your thoughts straight enough to create a coherent sentence, anyways, between michael’s cock deep inside of you and al-hashimi’s hands toying with your breasts. it’s not surprising for anyone in the room when you start to shake, your arms beginning to tremble from holding you up for so long.

“i can’t,” you start in a whiny tone, only to cry out when baran pinches your nipple between her thumb and index finger. it’s her favorite way of showing disapproval during sex.

“you can and you will.” her tone’s half-mocking and half-clinical, but entirely serious either way. “you can handle this. c’mon, taking his cock is one of your favorite things, isn’t it?”

“it is,” michael interjects, letting his fingers dig into your skin as he grips your hips. he starts pulling only slightly out as he gets close, addicted to the soft thudding of your ass meeting his pelvis. “’fucking loves it.” he’s older, sure, but no less inspirited in the bedroom, a fact that takes you by surprise every time. all you can do is close your eyes and nod weakly as his cock buries itself inside you before twitching against your walls. “close,” he finally moans, “i’m close, i’m gonna come—”

“should we let him come inside?” al-hashimi’s voice rings out clear against all the noise: the moans, the grunts, the soft rustle of the bed. we. as if your pussy was just as much hers as was your own. in some ways, it was.

from behind, an unusually whiny “please” can be heard. it’s rare for robinavitch to ever whine for you, much less beg, but for baran? “please, gotta be inside,” he goes on, accidentally emphasizing his point with a sharp and overeager thrust that makes both of you groan.

“maybe,” baran hums. “i want to hear you say it,” she goes on, pinching your nipple again. this time, your back arches, and a wave of heat flows through your body. the pain blends in with the pleasure, coming together to form a growing general warmth.

every part of you feels slick— your eyes are glossy with unshed tears, your skin is subtly coated in sweat, and your poor cunt’s soaked from self-lubrication. wet, warm, and definitely on the verge of overstimulation , you stammer out consent to the best of your ability. “yeah— fuck, come inside! come inside, michael, come in me—”

“’fill me up, michael, i want to be full of you’,” the woman underneath you finishes for you, smirking. her voice loses that clinical quality in favor of being full on mocking. well, there is nothing al-hashimi finds hotter than when you whimper at her bullying. “i like you like this,” she muses, her hand leaving your breast in order to wipe the tears that’ve started to flow down your cheeks. “all cock-drunk... and look at that bulge,” she coos, sliding her hand back down to let her fingers graze along the slight outline of robby’s cock inside of you. “you’re more than happy to take every inch, aren’t you? you’ve probably been waiting all week for his dick.”

just when you gather enough strength to muster up a reply, robinavitch’s orgasm hits. his grip on your body borders on painful as he slams himself into you, burying his dick to the hilt and unloading his cum right then and there. a loud groan leaves his lips, the sound betraying his age with how rough it sounds. as robby fucks his cum into you, thrusting one or two more times, stars flood your vision, and your own orgasm washes over you. it starts with a small wave of heat and ends with a full rush of pleasure, one that leaves your legs quivering and your jaw slack. even after he pulls out, you find it hard to come down from the high.

from the back, michael admires your fluttering pussy, watching with an almost selfish glee as his cum drips from your hole. beneath you, baran soaks in your facial expression, grinning at how far gone you look. you’re stuck between them both, panting like a dog and trembling like a leaf in the wind. a quiet fills the room as the three of you collect yourselves. eventually, al-hashimi sits up, urging you with a soft series of “come here”s to straddle her lap.

“there we go,” she murmurs, fixing your now messy hair as you settle down. her lips press to your forehead, then cheeks, and then your lips, just as they did before; “let me know when you’re ready to go again, okay baby?”

the ability to speak coherently still hasn’t returned for you yet, so you opt instead to nod gently at her words. as soon as you can talk again and your legs don’t feel like jelly, you’ll let baran know that you’re ready for her turn. for now, though, you relax in her lap with michael having sprawled himself out on his back beside you both. you suck a deep breath in before exhaling, glancing between your two attendings and relishing the fact that you’re right where you want to be.

i like them more than i shld actually… theyre so fine. i feel like it truly is like a 3way thing, they have insane chemistry w/ each other… they give brat and brat tamer at times… mean al-hashimi ily <3