#linette writes

One minute he’s stepping into the shitty dive bar right next to the church where his NA meetings are held and the next he’s got a pissed off Santos in his face - not that he thinks she’s capable of any other emotion save fucking arrogance. It's not like he knows what he did to earn her ire. He hasn’t seen her since the day of the shooting. Robby had meant it when he'd kicked him out of the ER - Frank Langdon wasn’t welcome back until he’d gone through the motions: rehab, NA, drug test after drug test after drug test. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Santos snaps before he can ask her the same fucking thing. 

“None of your damn business,” Frank snaps, shoving her out of his way. She scoffs before stepping back into his path. “Do you fucking mind?”

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be starting the path to recovery,” she says, voice low and flat. She shoves her hands into her pockets and rolls her neck, sucking her teeth as she glares up at him. “You’d have the good sense to not wander into a fucking bar.”

“Right because you care so much about my sobriety,” Frank says with a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He brushes past her, shaking his head the entire way to the bar where he orders a light beer. Before the glass can touch his fingers, Santos snatches it up and drains over half before handing it back to him. She raises her eyebrows and shrugs, “I was thirsty and better in me than you, right?”

It devolves from there. 

Not that there even was a higher plane that they could ever inhabit together. Frank isn’t sure they’ll even be able to practice medicine in the same city, let alone the same hospital. She continues to steal his beers, he gets louder and louder every time he calls her out on it. It doesn’t take long before the bartender leans forward and hisses at them to get their shit together or get the fuck out. 

“Great,” Frank snaps, glaring at her. Santos just snorts, rolling her eyes, before turning away from him entirely. Frank scoffs, shaking his head. He’s had enough of this for one night. “Have a nice night, Santos. Try not to get run over by a car.”

He doesn’t wait for whatever smart aleck bullshit she’s bound to say. This isn’t the only bar in the neighborhood and Frank still hasn’t managed to have the beer he so desperately craves post meetings. He heads towards the back hallway, choosing to slip out into the back alley rather than out the front. At least this way, he’s walking away from Santos instead of towards her - a pathetic excuse for a victory but considering the state of his life, he’ll fucking take it.

He’s barely made it to the back hall when Santos grabs his arm and drags him into the bar’s tiny bathroom, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m not done,” Santos snaps, locking the door behind them. 

Frank scoffs, rolling his eyes at her audacity. He’s ready to snap back at, ready to keep arguing until he’s red in the face, when he grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him forward, pressing her mouth to his in a violently closed lipped kiss. He’s quick to shove her away with both hands, “What the fuck, Santos?”

“Shut the fuck up, Langdon,” she replies with a sneer before kissing him again. Langdon’s hands stay limp on her shoulders, fingers clenching and unclenching as he tries to decide what the fuck he should do. She bites at his bottom lip, pulling on it until he grunts in pain, and lets it go with a pop. “God, you’re such a fucking pussy. I bet you’re high right now and just can’t get it up.”

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Frank snaps, trying to take a step back only to run into the sink. He groans as his lower back flares painfully, his teeth clenching almost as painfully as his muscles. “One day you’re ruining a man’s life and the next you're shoving your tongue down his throat?”

Santos rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth, stepping further into his personal space. For a moment he’s caught off guard by the vibrant color of her eyes but the moment quickly passes when she presses the heel of her hand into his half-hard cock. Her voice is obnoxiously lazy - uninterested when she asks, “I think ruining your life is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you?”

This time it’s Frank that’s shoving his tongue down her throat. The groan she lets out is filthy as she grabs the back of his head, pulling on his hair until his scalp stings. He wraps a hand around the front of her throat. His thumb and forefinger fit perfectly against her jaw as he tilts her head back. Her nails catch on his happy trail as she struggles to undo the button of his jeans. He skips right over that part of the process and shoves his free hand down the front of her pants, the waistband practically cutting off the circulation to his hand. 

He loses whatever mind he has left when he feels how fucking wet she is. 

He presses two fingers into her just when her warm hand wraps around his dick. They let out matching pained groans, their teeth clacking as they each try to dominate and control the nature of their kiss. Frank bites at her bottom lip and tastes blood on his tongue. Santos pays him back with her teeth on his tongue. After that, he can’t tell which of them is actually bleeding - it's just a hot metallic tang under the staleness of the bar’s shitty beer. 

Santos yanks on his hair sharply, pulling his head back enough to look her in the eyes again before letting go of his dick and shoving her hand into his face, “Spit.”

When he complies without thought, she pats his cheek with the same hand with a muttered, “Good boy.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” he hisses, jerking his face away from her wet palm. 

She laughs, mean and low, before spitting on top of what’s left of his own and reaching down to grab his dick again. Frank clenches his jaw, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she starts to move her hand up and down, her grip just a tad too tight to actually be comfortable. 

He’s never been so hard in his life.

“What’s that?” Santos asks, using the grip she has on his hair to shake his head from side to side. “Was that ‘Thank God, Doctor Santos narced on my ass before I killed a patient’? I think it was.”

The look on her face when he viciously pinches her clit and tightens the almost forgotten hold he has on her neck is almost as good as any high he’s experienced. His eyes flutter closed again as she twists her wrist, her thumb sliding over the leaking tip of his cock. His voice breaks a bit, softening the derision in his voice as he pants, “Oh, I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

Santos leans against his hand, eyes fluttering as the pressure increases, and presses her chest against his. His wrist cramps slightly at the awkward angle but it doesn’t stop him from twirling her clit between his thumb and forefinger. She drags her blunt nails against his scalp and practically yanks on his dick, “Put up or shut up, Langdon.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, shoving three fingers into her. She lets out an ungodly sound that he swallows whole. She’s disgustingly wet, her clit sliding against his palm as he moves his fingers in and out of her. There’s no rhythm, no smoothness, just a hungry need to carve out her insides, to make himself a home inside of her where she can’t ever get him out. 

Frank’s always heard that he’s got a possessive streak inside him. That it makes him dangerous and unreliable and a menace to anyone who gets too close. As horrifying as it is, Frank thinks Santos might just be the one who could weather the storm. 

The harder he fucks her with his fingers the louder she gets -  making these guttural, animal sounds that claw their way past the hold he has on her throat. Each one tastes sweeter than the last - cloying and addictive and enough to make his stomach churn. He might just puke. He wonders if it’ll taste like her mouth, like the spit he’s already been forced to choke down. Would he puke into her mouth? Down her throat? Fill her with his bile before filling her with his cum?

He pulls away with a gasp as his cock throbs in her limp grip. He’s still so fucking hard, leaking from the tip, his hips jerking forward on instinct as she starts to fall apart around his fingers. He forces himself to focus on her face, to catalogue each wave of pleasure crash over her face. Her mouth hangs open, her eyes squeezed shut, her cheeks red and splotchy. He can feel each breath that gets caught in her throat, her muscles spasming under his palm, her pulse rabbit-fast under his thumb as she strains against his grip to try and kiss him again. 

“I think you’re going to come, Dr. Santos,” Frank mutters. She whimpers a little with a reluctant nod that strokes his ego. He laughs a little under his breath, curling his fingers and rubbing at the warm softness inside of her. She gasps, mouth falling open as she struggles to open her eyes. Her pupils are blown wide, dark pools that he can see himself in - his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks. “I don’t know if I should let you.”

That gets her undivided attention. 

“Don’t really know if you deserve it, to be honest,” he continues even though he hasn’t stopped his fingers, hasn’t loosened his grip on her throat. Her cunt flutters around his fingers, her hips shifting as she tries to beat him to the punch. “You would try to go for it anyways, wouldn’t you? So fucking entitled, Santos.”

His voice is ragged, thick, unused. He doesn’t even recognize it - doesn’t know if he’d even recognize himself in the mirror. He’s never been like this with a woman - cruel, out of control, vindictive. But then again he’s never been with a woman like Trinity Santos. 

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, strengthening her grip on his dick. Frank groans and tries to thrust through the dry, hot hold she has on him. It just earns him another violent squeeze. “Don’t give me a reason to maim you.”

“Think you’ve fucked up my life enough as it is,” Frank mumbles, slowing his fingers. He pulls one out, leaving only two fingers to gently push and pull in and out of her. He doubts she can even feel it with how stretched out and wet she is. Frank thinks the sound that claws its way from behind her puffy mouth could be called a growl. He slides his fingers out, pulls his hand out of her pants and sucks her juices off his shiny, wet fingers with a small pop. “Payback is a bitch and all that, right?”

“Oh fuck you,” Santos groans, rolling her eyes. She tightens her grip on his cock and shoves him back with her free hand until his lower back collides with the sink. His grip on her throat finally loosens enough that she can pull away from him, dropping to her knees in the blink of an eye. 

As insane as the night has become, Trinity Santos on her knees in front of him is an entirely new level of crazy.

Her tongue is hot as she runs it up the backside of his cock. A flat-tongued lick that gives him a full-body shiver. He reaches back to grip the sink with both hands. He stares down at her, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised to his hairline. She winks at him before nipping at the superficial dorsal vein, sending a jolt through his entire body. His head drops back as a loud groan bursts out of his mouth. She does it again, making his knees buckle for a brief moment. 

“You’re so fucking easy,” Santos mutters with a huff before tilting her head, opening her mouth, and biting down. 

It’s not a hard bite, nothing damaging or painful, just the blunt feeling of her teeth on either side of his dick. It’s enough for him to jump, pressing at her forehead to get her to let go. She bats at his hand and rubs his tongue all over his cock, making it sloppy and wet before she swallows him down without any warning. 

“Fucking fuck!” Frank shouts, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He tries to take a deep breath, tries to keep his hips from twitching forward, tries to maintain some sense of control and composure. It’s a losing battle when she hollows her cheeks and fucking sucks. “Goddammit!”

Santos pulls off of him with a loud pop, her lips plump and the same shade of red as her cheeks. “Shouldn’t blaspheme like that. God might just strike you down.”

“Are you serious?” Frank groans when she reaches up to cup his balls. Her grip is tight enough to make his cock twitch against her lips. Santos snorts, flicking at the tip with a finger. Frank hisses and nods along like a fool. “Yeah, okay, yeah, you’re fucking serious.”

“You’re the one with the wedding ring and crucifix in your locker,” Santos mutters with a casual shrug. Frank narrows his eyes at her, his mouth opening to snap at her about privacy and staying out of his fucking shit. “Don’t even, jackass. Not when I’ve literally got your balls in my hand.”

She gives said balls a tight squeeze that makes his stomach clench as he lets out a desperate gasp. He tilts his head back, his mouth falling open as he loses himself in the feeling of her hot mouth surrounding him. His hips jerk forward, his body running on instinct to fuck deeper. Santos gags, a wet gurgle of protest manages to squirm its way past his cock, the vibrations making him moan and thrust again. 

Santos smacks his ball sack in retaliation but the sting isn’t enough to stop him from shallowly thrusting into the back of her throat. She continues to gurgle as she inhales around his cock, sucking him further into her mouth. He feels her tonsils brush against the head of his cock for a brief moment before she’s shoving him back with both hands. He pulls free of her mouth with a pop and a loud gasp before Santos starts coughing. 

“You’re,” cough, “the fucking” cough “worst!”

“You’re the one who fucking swallowed my dick!” Frank reminds her, swallowing down the twinge of guilt that he’s made such a mess of her. He’s not like this usually - doesn’t remember a time when he ever pushed a woman’s boundaries like this when it came to sex. He supposes its just another sign of how much of a bad fucking influence Trinity Santos is on his sanity. “Don’t start shit that you can’t handle, princess.”

Santos glares up at him. With how red her cheeks are and how wet her mouth is, all it does is make him laugh and reach for her head. He digs his fingers into her scalp before slowly gathering her hair in his fist and tugging enough for her head to tilt back, her mouth falling open with a surprised gasp. Her pupils are blown wide, black overtaking the hazel green of her irises. 

He’s fascinated as her face morphs from indignant outrage to something desperate and hungry as he starts feeding her his cock again. He holds onto the base as he slowly thrusts into her mouth until there’s no room left. He grips her head with both hands as the head of his cock tuck itself behind her tonsils. Frank almost passes out, trying to choke down the groan that wants to burst out of his mouth when Santos digs her blunt nails into his thighs in retaliation.

“Of course shoving a cock down your throat is the only way to shut you up,” he pants. He doesn’t miss the way her free hand is shoved down her pants. “Way to be a cliche, Santos.”

Even with tears streaming down her face, her cheeks bright red, her mouth swollen and stretched, Santos manages to look infuriated. She digs her nails out of his thighs and grabs his balls with one hand, giving them a vicious squeeze that makes him shout. He growls, moving his hand to the back of her head to hold her pressed against his pelvis as he thrusts - hard. 

“You’re such a fucking cunt,” he hisses as she gags around him, spit dribbling out of the corners of her mouth. Her moans turn into a pained gurgle that echoes off the walls of the small bathroom they’ve commandeered. 

Even through everything that he’s forcing onto her, she manages to run her thick tongue over him. Frank groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he sinks into the feeling. The bottom of his spine starts to tingle and he loses control of his hips, his rhythm beginning to falter as his orgasm starts to creep up on him. He forces himself to look down at her. He wants to see - needs to see her face when he comes. Needs to imprint the picture onto the backs of his eyelids so that he never fucking forgets the sight of her on her knees for him. 

His balls tighten and he yanks his cock from her mouth, furiously jacking himself off until he covers her eyes and hair with his cum. She’s too busy coughing a lung out to try and dodge the worst of it, just barely managing to close her eyes in time. 

“Fucking rank, dude,” Santos complains, gingerly standing up and moving towards the sink to clean herself up. Frank is quick to get out of her way. His heart is still pounding, his breathing labored, his half-hard and slowly getting softer dick still clutched in his sweaty, hot hand. “You know that’s the second time you’ve blue-balled me.”

Frank rolls his eyes and snatches some paper towels out of the dispenser to wipe his dick and hand clean. 

“Not my fault it takes you forever to fucking come,” Frank snaps as he throws his crumpled papertowels in the trash. He shoves her out of the way to wash his hands, glaring at her in the mirror’s reflection. Her eyes are just as disdainful as his own are. “Besides, you were too fucking eager to get at my dick, weren’t you?”

“It's a shitty surgeon who blames the scalpel when he kills his patient on the table,” she replies as she presses herself against his back to spit into the sink. She wipes her bottom lip with her thumb and scoffs a little before giving him a two fingered salute with a flick of her wrist. “See you later, Langdon. You know,” she shrugs casually, “if you don’t OD first.”

“Fuck you,” Frank snaps, spinning around and crowding her against the bathroom door. She raises her eyebrows as her pupils grow wide with excitement. He wants to wrap his hand around her throat again, wants to squeeze hard enough to make her face bright red and her eyes water. He wants to shove her pants down and give her the fucking she so clearly wants - hard and fast and painful. He hisses and steps away from her, running a shaking hand through his hair. “Seriously. Fuck. You.”

Santos scoffs and pushes off of the door, rolling her eyes at him as she reaches behind herself to unlock the door. Frank curls his hands into fists, trying to hold himself together, to hold himself back. Santos gives him one last look like she knows just how hard he’s trying to reel himself in from the violence and lust that only she seems capable of inspiring in him. It makes his stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. 

He wants to tell himself that it’s guilt - more guilt - but he knows better, knows this feeling better. It's the same rush he gets before a really interesting case appears in front of him in the Pitt. The same thrill that went down his spine when he fucked his wife for the first time. The spike in his heartbeat when he recognized Santos next to him in the bar. 

Fucking anticipation. 

Just as quickly as it had rushed through him, it's gone. 

As Santos leaves through the bathroom door, Frank turns to puke into the toilet.