#innerinnercircle

Aelin was, honestly, not as excited for work as she should have been. She’d only been working at the hospital for a couple of weeks now, but the long hours and lack of contact with people outside the hospital led to excessive amounts of fatigue and stress. Not to mention that she hadn’t gotten laid in months. As she popped into the locker room exclusively for interns, she barely even nodded at her group of friends before she stuffed her face into her locker and attempted to get an extra few minutes of sleep on top of her scrubs.

She heard the chuckle from behind her before she felt the hands on her shoulders pulling her head out of the musty cage of metal and forcing her to sit on the wooden bench. Dorian’s kind blue eyes smiled down at her and she groaned again, using the shirt of her scrubs that she was still holding to whack him.

“We’re with Whitethorn today.” Dorian was practically bouncing. Aelin forced a small smile and patted his shoulder before she stood and tugged her shirt off. Dorian’s intake of breath was only barely noticeable, an improvement from the results of the last few weeks. Most of the other interns had gotten pretty used to changing around one another, but every once in awhile, Dorian would let himself stare a little too long at someone’s partially naked body. Aelin rolled her eyes and shucked off her pants as well, slipping her scrubs on easily over her tennis shoes.

She was tying her hair into a ponytail when someone coughed from behind her. Aelin turned and saw the resident in charge of their group of surgical interns. Dr. Westfall was only a couple years older than most of the interns, but acted as if he was lightyears better. He was generally grumpy, but Aelin didn’t mind him so much. Lysandra, the girl Aelin had befriended first, detested him. Aelin rolled her eyes at him, too, and tightened her ponytail as she bounced out of the locker room, leading the group of interns into the hospital’s halls.

Chaol Westfall was Aelin’s college boyfriend, for a brief time, and her friend for the rest of her time there. When she’d taken a few years to travel around Europe, he’d gone straight to med school, and they’d mostly lost touch after their break up, so they hadn’t talked for years. Until she’d become an intern at Adarlan Memorial and found out her first day that he was essentially tasked with babysitting her and her friends.

She continued leading them through the halls until they reached the nurses’ station, and Westfall took over. Aelin stared at her nails as he briefed them on what they would be doing today. Lysandra sidled closer to her and leaned to whisper in her ear.

“Did you hear we’re on Whitethorn’s service today? I’ll do stitches all day if I can just look at him.” Aelin choked on a laugh and masked it as a cough.

“He’s so… stoic,” Aelin muttered back. Lysandra groaned.

“I know.” Aelin smiled to herself and shoved Lysandra’s shoulder. Her friend was right: Dr. Whitethorn was gorgeous. He had the most piercing green eyes she’d ever seen, the color of grass almost, and it was impossible not to notice the way his muscles were cut, even under his baggy scrubs. Basically everything about the man was a major turn on, down to his mysterious and silent personality.

The first time they’d met, she and a couple of other interns had started out on his service for the day, and he was ordering them all about. Stitches there, check on that lady over there, make sure the ambulance bay is clear out there. Aelin had asked him if he didn’t think she’d be better off doing something useful. He looked at her for a second, stunned to silence, then huffed that she wasn’t any better than any of the other interns. He’d told her that interns were at the bottom of the hospital food chain, and if she ever talked to another Attending like that again, she’d be out of the “best damn internship she’d ever get.” He’d gotten awfully close to her face. Aelin couldn’t stop looking at him from that moment on.

“Galathynius!” Aelin jerked at the use of her name. Her eyes, which had almost glazed over from thinking of Dr. Whitethorn, flicked up to see Westfall in the front of the group, glaring at her. She cleared her throat, hoping that it would also clear her head. “How would you treat this case, Galathynius?”

Aelin watched Westfall’s lips turn up in a smirk; sure that she’d get the answer wrong. She cleared her throat again.

“First, send him to CT, and if that’s clear, he needs to go straight to surgery. He could have a perforated bowel, and it sounds like one of his lungs was punctured, too.” Westfall grumbled, but turned away. The rest of the interns followed him as he led them through the hospital’s halls, down to the ER. Doctors were running around, calling orders, alerting everyone of a minor accident coming in. Whitethorn was in the middle of the fray. His eyebrows were furrowed at the clipboard in front of him as he filled out a few check boxes, and then handed it to the nearest nurse. He clapped his hands together just as the ER doors slammed open, revealing a few doctors steering a stretcher towards Trauma 2.

Aelin watched Whitethorn’s muscles ripple as he tugged on new gloves, let them smack against his wrists, stretched his fingers a couple times, and jogged for the trauma room.

“Havilliard, Galathynius, Trauma 2. Go!” Westfall barked, and the two interns tugged on their gear before storming into the room.

Whitethorn was already hunched over the woman, talking to her as he assessed everything that could be wrong. Aelin hustled to the woman’s side, listening intently to everything the trauma surgeon said. She cataloged them in her head, trying to figure out what had happened and what would need attention, in order of most important to least.

“Pupils are responsive,” Whitethorn’s deep voice rung out. Aelin checked that box off in her mind. Whitethorn moved downwards along the woman’s body, checking her again and again for major injuries. Aelin followed him with her eyes. The patient coughed slightly, almost wheezing, and Aelin’s eyes darted up to meet her face. She nudged Dorian, who was standing beside her. He shook her off, still watching Whitethorn. He hadn’t noticed either.

“Dr. Whitethorn…” Aelin mumbled, audible but not confidant. She cleared her throat. “Dr. Whitethorn.” He turned to her, ice in his gaze.

“Yes?”

“She coughed.” The doctor’s eyes widened and he turned to face the patient again.

“Miss, could you cough for me again?” Another wheezing cough came out. Whitethorn swore. “Book OR2. Galathynius?” He turned to look at her. “Nice catch. You’re scrubbing in.“

--

The surgery went on without a hitch. Aelin watched from just behind a Resident’s shoulder for most of it, standing on her tiptoes. Whitethorn’s hands worked faster than she thought humanly possible, and Aelin had to admit, it was tremendously attractive. After four hours in the OR, though, Aelin was glad the surgery was over. She pulled off her scrub cap, plain green to match the other interns and Residents and tugged off her gloves, washing her hands three times for good measure.

Dr. Whitethorn sighed as he walked in and tugged off his extra adornments, too, leaving just the forest colored scrubs underneath. The green of his scrubs made his eyes stick out even more, and Aelin couldn’t keep from staring. She blushed a little and turned away when he caught her gaze. In her periphery, she could see him turning to lean against the sink.

“Nice work today.” Silence. “You’re smart, and you know what you’re doing. Don’t lose that,” he suggested, and moved to leave.

“Thanks,” Aelin muttered, suddenly finding her tennis shoes very interesting. She heard a soft rustle and turned just in time to see Whitethorn picking up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face off. She couldn’t help the audible breath she loosed. Whitethorn chuckled, and started walking towards the door again.

She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but every once in awhile she thought she caught Dr. Whitethorn’s gaze fixed on her. She could definitely be wrong, but Aelin had sensed tension between them since her first week. Consequences be damned, Aelin squared her shoulders and took a step towards the doctor.

“Anything else I should know, Dr. Whitethorn?” She looked up at him from underneath her lashes, a move she’d known would show him precisely what she was thinking. He cleared his throat.

“If you keep on the way you are, you’ll get the first solo surgery.” Aelin took another step closer.

“Keep on what way, exactly, Dr. Whitethorn?” Another step. She watched as Dr. Whitethorn’s gaze flicked across the room, looking out into the hall as well. He deemed the coast clear before darting across the room and pressing Aelin’s significantly smaller body up against the wall. She was sure he could feel her heart pounding all the way through her chest, but at this point it didn’t matter. He braced his arms on either side of her head, against the wall.

“Dr. Whitethorn…” Aelin started, but was cut off by a kiss pressed to her neck.

“Rowan,” he growled against her skin. “I want you to call me Rowan when I make you scream my name.” Aelin shivered against his body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tightening underneath her hands and she let out a breath as his teeth grazed her collar bone. She brought a hand to cup his face, and pulled his lips up to meet hers. They met in a mad clashing of tongue and teeth, not bothering to be gentle with one another.

God, Aelin had needed this. Her breaths were becoming shallower and shallower as Rowan nipped at her jaw and just below her ear. He really knew what he was doing, but Aelin hadn’t assumed otherwise. His hands rubbed slow circles on her abdomen, tracing lines around her stomach, inching dangerously close to her bra (which was, unfortunately, painfully boring.) Rowan let out a few audible hums of approval, vibrating against her skin, as she writhed beneath his pleasuring touches.

Aelin heard the echo of a few pairs of shoes and voices travelling down the hallway. The room they were in had too many windows for either of them to be comfortable going any further in it, not to mention that theoretically, this was against the rules. Rowan grumbled something that Aelin couldn’t make out and grabbed her wrist loosely, pulling her out of the scrub room.

As they passed a group of Residents, joking as the walked down the hall in a clump, Rowan moved his hand from her wrist down to his side, though Aelin could tell they were both itching for physical contact. Maybe it had been a while for him, too. She stepped just a bit closer to him as he picked up the pace. They were practically running through the halls now, though it wasn’t an unusual sight in Adarlan Memorial.

“We could go to an on call room,” Aelin suggested, struggling to keep up with him due to her much shorter legs. She hadn’t quite realized quite how tall he was until he was pressed up against her, but she couldn’t seem to stop noticing it now. Rowan ignored her comment and continued to lead her through the halls.

He finally stopped in front of a door, checked the surroundings and twisted the metal knob. Aelin ushered herself inside. It was dark, and it was difficult to tell what kind of room they were in, but at least it wasn’t a residential room. Rowan barely even closed the door and didn’t bother to flick on the lights before Aelin was pushed up against yet another wall. At this point, she was sick of the scrubs that were separating them, no matter how good he looked in his. Her hands went to the hem of his top, just barely grazing the skin of his stomach. He pulled away from her just enough to help pull his shirt over his head, but then brought his lips firmly down on hers.

Aelin dug her nails into his back, and tugged his body even closer to hers. She opened her mouth wider to let his tongue slide in, and was incredibly glad she did. Whitethorn seemed to be an expert on all things anatomy, in every sense of the word. She fought the urge to moan at his surprisingly gentle caress of her back, and instead decided to focus on getting the rest of his clothing off. Aelin let her fingers glide down the planes of his chest, making it seem seductive, but really just wanting to feel the cut of his muscles, and finally reached the waistband of his pants.

Rowan started slightly at the feel of her cold fingers dancing along the elastic of his scrubs, and she smiled at his intake of breath. His mouth opened and he let his head fall against her shoulder as she lightly traced the outline of him over his scrubs, as slow as she could. He was already obviously hard, but when her fingers passed just the right spot, he twitched underneath her hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and Aelin clenched her legs together. She pulled back, finding his eyes once he looked up and staring straight at him as she yanked off her scrubs and underwear, leaving her standing naked in the dark of an unknown room. Aelin got a chill just thinking about it. She schooled her face into a cool smirk, daring him to step closer.

Almost faster than she could register, Rowan was holding her, setting her on some kind of shelf and sweeping everything on it onto the floor. A supply closet, then. Aelin sat up on her elbows, watching Rowan stare at her, an almost feral hunger in his eyes. His nimble fingers traced up and down her thighs, sending shivers through her body at every sweep. After teasing her sufficiently, sweeping closer and closer to where she desperately wanted his fingers, he carefully pulled her legs apart and began to bend down between them. Aelin almost let her head fall back in anticipation, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the way the tattoos on his chest were rippling as he gripped her thighs.

Her breaths were coming in shallow pants as Rowan took his time, letting his lips graze the insides of her thighs lightly. Even more than the actual contact, Aelin thought the feel of his breath on her legs would be her undoing. She was already slick with wanting, and the second Rowan felt it when his lips drifted just too close, he stopped wasting time. His mouth adhered to her, sucking and licking in ways that made Aelin’s mind go completely blank, save for the feeling of his lips and tongue grounding her. Her hands flew out to grab the support beams on either side of the shelf she was perched on, but it wasn’t tall enough for her to sit fully up, so she arched her back and let her head fall behind her, squeezing her eyes shut as she gasped for breath.

“Say it,” he said. His voice rumbled against her legs and Aelin almost crashed completely. He paused his work to look up at her. Something about the position she was in made him not care whether or not his name was falling from her lips, and he returned to pressing hot kisses against her and stroking her with his tongue. Aelin obliged him anyway.

“Rowan,” she murmured. His name felt like fire in her mouth, tasted like chocolate. If she said it every day for the rest of her life, it still wouldn’t be enough. “Rowan.” How could a name be so inexplicably beautiful? She whispered it this time, “Rowan,” and it undid something in him because he was pulling his mouth from her and tugging her face down to meet his. This kiss was much more gentle, and drove Aelin significantly more crazy. God, she couldn’t breathe. And his hands were running down her bare back and grabbing her ass and hoisting her up to fit around his waist and she was dying. Aelin thought she would finish right there, with her legs wrapped around his muscled torso, her hands in his hair, her lips fitting perfectly onto his.

She felt Rowan reach down and attempt to shuck off his pants, finally kicking them across the floor and moving a couple things out of the way before setting her down on the cold tile. She shivered and Rowan pushed himself up, kneeling over her.

“You okay?” His voice was rough and Aelin shifted underneath him. She blushed.

“It’s just cold, I’m good.”

“Do we need..?” Aelin shook her head.

“I’m on the pill. Don’t bother.” Rowan nodded, but lowered himself carefully, pressing cautious kisses to her neck and shoulders. She arched her back a little, trying to edge his hands downwards, where his attention had been lacking. She could feel his teeth as he grinned against her skin, catching on.

He obliged her, and let his hands skim across her collarbone and then down to cup her breasts. He softly ran his thumbs over them, tracing patterns on her skin, and Aelin’s back arched more. His lips finally found them as well, and her hands threaded into his hair to hold him against her. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, and she groaned. His teeth grazed it and she twitched. Shit, he was good. Rowan turned his attention to her other breast, licking and biting all over it, leaving marks that would likely be visible the next day, and potentially even a few days after that.

Aelin tugged his face back to hers and kissed him roughly. It was a clash of tongue and teeth and drove her insane. She was panting by the time he pulled away, bracing his arms on either side of her head and positioning himself at her entrance. She shifted her hips at the feel of him and loosed a breath as he finally sheathed himself in her. His eyes were open, watching her react to him moving inside her, making sure she was alright. It was surprisingly considerate coming from someone she’d only made contact with a few times, though those were slightly suggestive.

Rowan pulled out of her, and she whimpered at the loss of contact, but before she could take a full breath, he was slamming back into her. Her hands raked up his spine, digging into the muscles in his shoulders, which were flexing from the strain of him rocking back and forth. His mouth returned to her torso, kissing her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Anything to keep his lips on her body. His hand moved down to help him, massaging her.

“Shit,” she groaned, but stopped it short to try and keep quiet. He leaned down, putting his lips to her ear.

“No need to be quiet, no one ever uses this hallway.” Aelin grinned even though she knew he couldn’t see her. His fingers pressed down again and she arched her back, letting out a cry. “That’s it.” She fought the urge to glare at him. It wasn’t that she minded being pleasured so thoroughly, but she was a little disgruntled at the fact that he didn’t seem to be going as insane as she was.

She sat up a bit so that she could reach his neck as his thrusts wracked her body. She was so close, and all she wanted was for him to go over the edge with her. Aelin let her teeth latch on to the spot where his neck met his shoulder, biting hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that he definitely noticed.

“Damn it,” he cursed. His breaths were even shallower now, and Aelin knew that she’d achieved her goal. She continued sucking and nipping at his skin, soothing her bite.

“Need me to take a look at that? Since I’m, what was it? Oh! I’m smart and I know what I’m doing,” Aelin teased, pulling back to see if Rowan caught her joke. He rolled his eyes, but they were heavy with desire and she ignored it.

“Take as many looks as you want,” he muttered, returning to his steady rhythm. He let his head drop against her shoulder and his fingers began working her again. He slammed into her, hitting just the right spot and Aelin’s body lifted off the floor, clutching onto him.

“Holy shit, Rowan. Right the- oh, fuck.” She wasn’t quiet this time. Rowan thrust into her again, even harder than all the previous times and Aelin was choking on air, grasping for something to hold onto but all the found was gauze and she wasn’t living anymore, she was on a cloud, and she couldn’t think of anything but the feeling of Rowan’s body on hers and release. Without even thinking, she let one of her hands slip between them, touching herself where she knew it’d break her.

Rowan’s eyes widened, and she blushed, starting to pull her hand away, but Rowan growled at her.

“No, no. Oh my God, Aelin,” he grunted. The sound of her name on his lips shattered her and she cried out again, unable to think. He continued his movements, pulsing into her. His head fell down onto her again and she loosed a sigh in his ear. The feeling of her breath and the sound of her pleasure sent him over the edge, too, and he spilled himself into her. She bucked her hips to continue rocking them through the last throes of pleasure, moving her hands back to his shoulders. He collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies still connected. They were both breathing hard, eyes closed.

A buzz of a pager sent them both into a frenzy, attempting to move away from each other. In the dark, they almost couldn’t tell whose pants were whose, but the pager turned out to be Rowan’s. Aelin sat on the floor for a second while he rushed to get dressed, yanking on his scrubs and fixing his hair a bit.

“Sorry,” he said. He looked at her a little sheepishly, but still moved towards the door and ducked out. She sighed once and ran her hands through her hair, which had come out of its ponytail at some point during their endeavor, then grabbed her scrubs, put away a few pieces of gauze that had fallen to the floor and left as well.

When she finally got back to her group of interns, claiming that Whitethorn had wanted to debrief a bit after the surgery and make sure she understood, Lysandra sidled up to her.

“You bitch,” she whispered, smacking Aelin lightly on the shoulder. Her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“A supply closet?” Lysandra’s voice was rising. Aelin could feel the blush creeping over her face, and turned to look at the grin on Lysandra’s. She nodded and Lysandra looked up and fanned herself dramatically. She didn’t bother to ask how Lysandra knew, because Lysandra always knew everything that happened in the hospital.

As they were all getting ready to leave after their shift, Dorian slammed his locker door and turned to Aelin.