You were never working the 4th again, that’s for certain. Your hand is starting to cramp from how small you’ve had to write on the tubes, so many goddamn tubes. The E.D. break room seemed to be the best place to sit and finish labeling everything, better for your back than standing in the crowded hallway again.

The door gently opens as you’re just finished with the most recent sample, you can see out your preifereal a large form, meaning only one person.

“Dr. Park, what brings you back to the seventh circle of hell?”, you hum as you place the bio bag back on your cart. A small smirk graces his face before he pulls out the chair opposite of you.

“Came by looking for you, Vamp.”

“Oh? It’s too early to be on the naughty list, so what did I do now?”

That manages to reward you with a small chuckle, a deep sound that definitely doesn’t make its way to your core. “I was wondering what you’re doing after your shift, you have any plans?”

Your eyes widen at the calm tone he holds, secretly waiting for an “I’m just joking”, but one doesn’t come.

“I- uh- I mean if you call ordering Greek and playing Resident Evil “plans”, then yes. But that can be rescheduled.” Beautiful save, really. “Very exciting nights you have, Vamp,” he laughs, “some of my residents and I are meeting in the park across the street for drinks and fireworks, thought maybe you’d like to join us?”

Your mouth gapes like a fish while you scramble for an answer, finally squeaking out something resembling a yes.

“I don’t drink, but I’d love to come along! If that’s not a bother or anything, I don’t wanna intrude.”

His face contorts at your answer, “I asked you to come, you wouldn’t be a bother, I promise.” His gaze flicks to his watch, checking the time. “I have some charting to take care of, should be done by 8:30.” He looks back at you expectantly. “I’ll meet you down here by the elevator, good?”

You don’t trust your words at this point, so a nod is all you can muster. He stands, pushing in the chair before gazing up at you, “So what is your drink of choice, then?”

“Dr. Pepper, zero normally, or regular if I’ve been good.”

“If you’ve been good? When are you a bad girl?”, he teases as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

The chaos of the E.D. doesn’t give you time to dwell on his words, words that send an unfamiliar shiver down your spine that ends up as a warm patch in your underwear.

Two interactions with Park in one day leave you frazzled, for a lack of better words. But, by the grace of god you manage to clock out by 8:27, which would be fine if Brendon wasn’t already waiting by the elevator.

If you’re early you’re on time, if you’re on time you’re late, I suppose.

You go through a mental checklist of things to say as you approach him, going over possible questions and simple small talk as you weave through the still thick crowd of the E.D. He looks up from his phone as you approach, he showered, you notice, a small curl the center of attention on his forehead.

“You’re late, Vamp.” He hums as he tilts his head to drink you in, eyes not-so-subtly looking you over. “So I see, hopefully not too late for the festivities?” A sly smile graces your lips, looking him over just as he did moments ago. No longer in scrubs, just a faded band tee and jeans, “Journey, huh? Didn’t know they had fans under 60.” You tease as you walk in front of him, passing the front desk, heading towards the metal detector.

He scoffs, a sound between a laugh and annoyance, “I didn’t know you were so patriotic, all matchy-matchy.” He gestures to your headband and earrings, something you had coordinated with Victoria a few weeks before.

“I like to dress up for holidays, thank you very much.” You slide past an incoming patient, fireworks gone wrong…again.

“I’m only patriotic during the Olympics, I practically become a bald eagle.”

That manages to get a laugh out of him as he steps in front of you to get the door, you give a small nod as you step into the humid night air. You take your first real deep breath of the night, trading antiseptic and sickness for an earthy musk.

Park sidles up beside you, a big hand moving to grab at your backpack, a makeshift leash as he looks for oncoming traffic. It’s… comforting honestly; having someone look out for you is a rarity in adulthood.

He’s just being thoughtful, nothing more. When he finally deems it safe, his hand moves up to the back of your neck, giving a light squeeze before guiding you across the road. Now that should be alarming, but your brain is so fuzzy from his warm, commanding touch that the only thing you can do is obey.

True to his word, a group of residents are perched on the benches, a styrofoam cooler sitting next to the one you recognize as Imani, having consults with her a handful of times. Her eyes meet yours, and a genuine smile and shocked expression meet you, as if she didn’t believe her attending had enough people skills to convince someone to join him. A small chuckle leaves you, alerting the rest of the group to your arrival.

The introductions are quick, the other handful of residents are kind, giving a nod or a simple “hello”. You claim the bench parallel of Imani and the cooler, Brendon sitting next to you, his thick thigh brushing against yours, making no move to remedy it. Imani throws Brendon a beer, catching it with terrifying accuracy, reminding you of the time Jack missed his and had to wipe beer off his prosthesis.

She moves to throw you one, but Brendon cuts her off, “The pop is for her, she doesn’t drink.” Shit, you forgot you told him, and are more surprised that he remembered.

“Smart girl,” Imani jokes, “Less regrets, the better.”

With the fireworks and the drinking, the night quickly passes by. Your medication alarm reminds you just how late it is, a small shit! escaping you as you grab your things.

Brendon turns his attention to you, “Need to head home?”

“Yeah, I hate to bail but I get antsy when I’m late on my meds.” You explain, slowly standing, giving a little stretch after being sat for so long.

His keys are already in hand when he speaks, “I’ll drive you back, it’s too late for you to walk.”

You desperately try to come up with a reason to decline, but you can’t rationally turn down a free ride. So, you opt to just nod and say your goodbyes to the residents, giving Imani a quick hug, before following Brendon to the parking garage.

The ride to your place is a comfortable silence, the most talking having been Brendon asking you to put your address in his phone. His car isn’t what you expected, as Garcia loves to slander the ortho bro’s obsession with BMW. Instead it’s a simple four-door truck, new but nothing overtly fancy.

His free hand lays on the gear shift, occasionally twitching with the itch to place it on your plush thigh. He would consider himself friends with you, and he’s definitely seen the definitely subtle glances you’ve given him, so why is he so nervous to make a move? A fear of rejection sure, but more so a fear of fucking up what’s been built. So, he weighs his options, your place is 10 minutes away, you feel some kind of way about him, and if you accept his advances then he doesn’t have to quit his job and move across the country out of shame.

About a block away from your place, the sudden warmth on your thigh snaps you out of your daydream. Your body and mind freeze, and Brendon takes that hesitation as his answer. His heavy hand begins to lift, but your left hand quickly covers it, forcing it back down to its rightful place. The truck rolls to a stop in front of your building, the silence deafening.

“Can I come in?”

“Please.”

Brendon’s lips make their way down your neck as you unlock your front door, the impatience rolling off him in waves, his hungry hands roaming under your shirt, grabbing at the rolls and softness he finds.

You push the door open with haste, almost tripping over your cat; Brendon pauses just long enough to kick his shoes off, before kicking the door shut to press you against it. Your lips meet for the first time and you can just feel how much he’s wanted this. He tastes like mint and cheap beer, and you can’t seem to get enough.

His hands slide over your sides, finding their place on the fat of your ass, gripping hard enough to bruise. Your hands find purchase around his neck and in his hair, giving a light tug that makes his cock twitch against his boxers.

“Where’s your room?”

His breath is warm against your lips, you can’t help but give him a chaste kiss before wordlessly taking his hand and leading the way. Your cat sits on the island countertop, just observing, Brendon gives it a small nod as he passes, a silent pact of some sort.

He guides you on the bed, pausing to shed his shirt before descending back on top of you. Hands roam freely, yours finding his nape and traps, legs wrapping around his thighs, anchoring him to you. His big hands worm their way back under your top, he breaks the kiss to pull back, silently asking permission.

For the first time since he kissed you, your mind begins to race again. Brendon notices the twitches of your nose, eyes, a sign of contemplation he’s grown fond of, but he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“We don’t have to,” his mouth trails soft kisses back down the side of your neck, “But I’d really like to, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d really like to.”

His confession pulls you back in, a small smile finding its way to your lips.

“Ok.”

That’s all he needs, big hands gently tugging your shirt and bra above your head, tossing them somewhere unimportant. Brendon gets his first good look at you, your eyes blown with lust, skin warm from the contact. His left hand runs down your side, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, while his right moves to palm his erection.

You take the opportunity to lean forward to run a hand down his chest, brushing at the soft hair that leads to his cock. His abs have a healthy layer of fat covering them, the thought of him laying his whole body weight on you makes you squirm.

Your free hand moves to replace the hand on his bulge, giving a firm squeeze before slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, looking up at his baby blues, a silent plea to take them off already. Brendon’s lips find yours before pulling back to get rid of his jeans. You mimic him, hastily shucking your shorts and underwear off, leaving yourself completely bare.

You both pause, taking in each other’s naked forms. You lift a hand to his stomach, fingers trailing down his happy trail to his leaking cock. Your hand closes around his shaft, giving a few gentle strokes, palm rolling around the leaking tip. Brendon’s head dips back, eyes closing in pleasure, a low groan erupting from his throat. He lets you stroke him a little longer, the stark difference between your hand and his makes him lose his mind.

You can tell he’s enjoying this, but fuck if you weren’t so ready for him to just ruin you. You pull your hand away, bringing it to your mouth to lick a stripe up your palm, collecting the precum he’s been steadily dripping. His breath hitches at the sight, and his aching cock jumps between his legs, agreeing.

Brendon reaches forward and settles a heavy hand at your nape, pulling you into a messy kiss, he groans at the combined taste of his precum and your spit, something so filthy but so damn good.

“Lay back, baby,” he breaks the kiss, a string of spit breaking in between you, landing on your chest. His eyes follow it, his fingers moving to rub it in with wandering strokes. His rough fingers circle your left nipple, giving it a firm tug before rolling it between his fingertips. The action makes your back arch, pushing your chest out more, anything for more friction. A whine escapes you when he pulls away, his hand moving to gently push your chest down, to follow his instructions.

You let your back hit the mattress, arms reaching up to wrap around Brendon’s neck, bringing him back down to another messy kiss. A hand slides into his hair, gently pulling at the soft curls, the other planted on his bicep. His unoccupied hand moves slowly down your side, groping and squeezing the fat that adorns your body.

“So soft, all for me.” His mouth plants kisses along your jaw, leading down your neck, your chest, his teeth giving a small tug to your belly ring before placing a final kiss to your mons.

His blue eyes meet yours, a silent question of confirmation, you give a firm nod, fingers weaving back into his curls. Brendon wastes no time getting settled on his stomach, wrapping a strong arm around your plush thigh, his other hand gently rubbing between your labia, brushing against the coarse hair. He places open-mouthed kisses along the insides of your thighs, so close to where you really want him.

Brendon meets your gaze as he pushes his middle finger into your dripping hole. The fullness makes you groan, subconsciously clenching around his finger. He pulls back enough to make you whine, before pushing back in with more force. It isn’t long before he adds his ring finger, a delicious stretch that makes you dig your heels into his shoulder blades.

He groans at the pain, his grip on your thigh tightening as he resists the urge to grind against the sheets.

Your hand gently urges his head to your core, his fingers not enough. Brendon’s eyes meet yours as he flattens his tongue against your lips, licking a broad stripe up from your hole to your clit, sucking on the swollen nub. A breathy whine leaves your lips as your hips buck into his face, his strong arm keeping you grounded as he continues to lap and suck at your clit, occasionally moving lower to replace his fingers with his tongue.

It doesn’t take him long to bring you close to the edge, the mix of his thick fingers and tongue driving you insane, his gentle praises making you clench and squirm under his hold. Your grip on his hair tightens, as does the thighs around his head. Brendon can’t resist the urge to grind against the mattress, desperately trying to relieve the ache in his hard cock. “Brendon- please!”

“Give it to me, baby, let go for me,” His voice is muffled, but the vibrations drive you crazy, giving you the push over the edge.

That was probably the best orgasm you’ve had in years, if the cotton in your ears was anything to go off of. You just lay there as you catch your breath, occasionally looking down and meeting Brendon’s eyes as he peppers kisses along your thighs and mons. When your breathing evens out, Brendon crawls up your body, leaning down to press his lips to yours, letting you taste how addicting you are.

Your hand reaches up and cups his jaw, gently rubbing against the stubble starting to grow back. His free hand settles at the dip in your waist, an anchor for you both.

“You ready for me, baby?” his lips trail along your jaw, patiently waiting for your answer.

“Yes- fuck, please Brendon.”

That’s all he needs to hear as he pulls back to settle the backs of your thighs on top of his, not wasting any time fumbling for a stupid pillow. Your legs wrap around his solid waist, your eyes meet his as he grabs his cock, giving a few strokes before lining up and gently pushing in.

The weight and stretch makes your toes curl, a low whine crawling up your throat. Brendon watches your face, looks for any sort of discomfort before giving a slow, deep thrust. “Shit- you keep squeezin’ me like that and I won’t last, baby,” Brendon groans.

You can’t help it at this point, you’ve never been this full, this stretched before. Your hands grasp at his shoulders for something to ground you, but Brendon’s deep thrusts render you useless, he’s managed to fuck you dumb in a matter of minutes.

His pace doesn’t falter, nor speed up, just a constant slow pace that feels so fucking good. Brendon places one of your legs over his shoulder, and both of you groan at the new angle. His free hand makes its way from your breast, your jaw, back down to your mons, settling there to rub firm circles on your clit.

“Need you to come for me, shit- please baby, I need you to come.”

Your grip around him tightens as you reach your peak, heels digging into his shoulder and back. Your moans grow louder, almost in tandem with his. You groan his name as you come, or yet, a slurred iteration of it. Brendon finishes not long after, pulling out in time to paint your plush stomach with his cum.

He moves to lean on his elbows, a dopey smile adorning his face. You can’t help but mirror him, a soft laugh filling the now quiet room.

“You wanna go again?”