#pittyuriweek26

You know you're in trouble as soon as you wake up with Trinity's thigh between your legs. She smiles excitedly at you slowly coming to life, rubbing your eyes.

"Heyyyy, sleepy."

"Mhmmph." Her voice is too sing song and teasing for having just woken up. She pulls your hands away from your face so can't avoid the creeping sun light any longer. Nor can you miss the twinkle in Trinity's eyes. She snuggles in closer which, accidently you're sure, grinds her leg closer to your crotch.

"Did you sleep?" Given how awake she seems you wonder if she's overtired and pent up. Trinity is used to Baran lulling her to sleep. You'd both been silently aware this was the first night you'd spent together without her. Since coming into Baran and Trinity’s lives, there’d been plenty of times you and Trinity would be left alone whilst Baran worked or run errands. However  this was the first time you'd been asked to stay whilst Baran was out of town for a conference and the first full night it’d been just the two of you. You'd carefully followed the routine Baran had set. Shower, food, cuddles. Each step photographed and sent to the older woman, yourself and Trinity eagerly awaiting her approving reply. You'd followed all the rules - no work talk after 9pm, eat a proper portion, take your meds. No touching without Baran's permission. Maybe that explains why Trinity is all over you this morning.

"Yeah, you're not a bad teddy bear, you know?" Trinity burrows her head into your neck and squeezes you tight. You hope it’s true. Trinity always surprises you with how she softens and sighs when cuddled. You feel it now as her body relaxes into you and she starts brushing her lips where your pulse is steadily rising.

"Trinity...what are you up to?" The sensation of her breath on your skin makes you giggle. You scrabble your fingers to tickle at her hips until she joins in your laughter.

"Missed you last night." She pushes your hands off her and locks your fingers tight with hers.

"I was right here."

"Ummph you know what I mean!" She presses you onto your back so she can climb on top of you, hands still tangled. "I missed you.... missed Baran. Missed what we could have been doing." Her voice is still high pitched and teasing like when she’d woke you.

"Mmm you're obsessed. " But you'd be lying if you said your mind wasn't on the same road, thanks to Trinity's touchy hands.

"Then help an addict out." You don't miss her wince at that word. Instinctly you bring your lips to hers, hoping it keeps her mind in your bed and not on another Langdon induced anxiety trip. The enthusiatic way she sticks her tongue between your lips tells you it’s working. Trinity's kisses have a biting edge you can't help craving. Her hips start to copy the swirls of her tongue. Like an instant reflex your own hips follow. A damp patch grows on your underwear to match the wet cotton of Trinity's shorts that’s rubbing against you.

"Trin.." She catches your bottom lip and sucks your warning away. You cave, again. That's the trouble with Trinity - she doesn't give up easily but can make you give in in seconds.  When she finally takes a breath, you try stilling her hips with your hands.

"Trin...you know the rules." She pulls back from you with a tremendously dramatic sigh. Your body already misses the contact.

She pulls one knee up so she can rest her chin on it. She's pixie like. Rumpled from sleep with her shirt rucked up and impish mischief shining in her eyes. Magically captivating. But rules are rules.

~~

Rules are why whatever you have going with Trinity and Baran works. Rules mean control and control is a sticking point in all your lives. Baran needs something she can have mastery over when she increasingly feels at the mercy of things beyond her. By contrast you’re too wedded to control. You take on too much, obsess over perfecting things to your own impossible standards. Sometimes you need to give it up and feel responsible for nothing. Trinity understands that. She craves the same escapism and the relief of having someone make things go her way for once. Trinity needs somewhere safe when the feelings, she's too often chastised about, need a release. Sometimes she needs to push back against control without fearing she’ll be abandoned for it.

Trinity, therefore, is no stranger to bending and even breaking Baran's rules. You've never dared. "Fucking suck up." Trinity would hiss, when Baran had her head between your legs, leaving Trinity to watch as punishment for whatever she'd done. Trinity could be bratty, but she was as much putty in Baran's hands as you were. The older woman knew you both in ways you didn't think possible, always knowing what you needed. She delighted in taking what she wanted from you and instructing you how to please each other. "My pretty girls, so pretty together" she'd coo. But always when the three of you were cuddled together, she'd remind you. "It’s not just a sex thing. This is about care. This is about your wellbeing." Her voice so assured, her words almost clinically confident, it’s impossible not to trust.

~~

Trinity is still expectingly batting her lashes at you. She crawls over your body until her lips are pressed to your ear.

"She doesn't have to know." You both know that Baran, one way or another, will know in the end. Yet Trinity's hands are boldly running down to where your pants sit on your hips.

"Do you really want to risk not being allowed to cum... ever again?"

She pushes the elastic down your hips and round your legs with a huff.

"You're so fucking dramatic." She rolls her eyes and shifts backwards until her face is level with your core. The burning heat of her gaze does little to help the aching wetness between your legs. Trinity notices straight away.

"Are you really going to tell me you don't want this?"  She's close enough that her breath hits your damp skin when she speaks. The morning air catches in your throat.

"Rules, Trin."

"Made to be broken sometimes." She grins at the flutter of your hole. "Sure, looks like you want it." She leans in closer and swipes her tongue up the length of your pussy. "Sure, tastes like you want it." She hovers over your naked lower half with a cocky smirk, like she really believes Baran won't extract a confession from either of you. She swipes her tongue over you again. "Come on, baby, be a troublemaker for once."

She has you totally captivated the way she plays coy and cheeky. You've seen Baran dole out punishments to Trinity before. A spanking, a temporary denial or delay in cumming, getting a little less of her for the night. Maybe you could take that. You start weighing it up in your mind, torn between the sweet warmth of Baran singing your praises and the hot, wet sensation of Trinity’s torturously slow tongue. Your brain fogs with indecision. This is why you need someone to take control for you. Trinity leans in again, her actions halted by the ring of your phone. She pauses where she is, mouth dangerously close to its target.

You hurridly grab for the device, panicking more when it identifies Baran as the caller. That woman has a fucking sixth sense. You can't remember what her conference schedule looked like but there's every chance she's already mingling with doctors and surgeons in one of the tight dresses you'd help her pack. Why the hell is she phoning now? You flash the phone at Trinity.

"Answer it." She stays close enough to make your skin shiver.

Baran's sultry voice pours over the speaker. "Good morning, kitten." You catch Trinity lick her lips, watching the effect that name has on you. "How are you?"

"I'm alright..." Your voice is shakier than you'd like. "Still in bed."

Baran hums like she's considering how much she really trusts your unconvincing answer. "And is Trinity there too?"

Trinity's ears prick up, smiling devilishly with a finger to her lips. Shhhh. Then she delves in where her mouth had been lingering. Her tongue repeats its earlier movements between your folds, only quicker.

"Yea- yeah she uh...she's still asleep." Your lie is so pitiful Trinity briefly pulls back to snort.

"Is she now?" You can picture the all-knowing smile Baran is wearing as she speaks. You look at Trinity with a mix of fear and I told you so. She props herself up with an elbow on the mattress. Her other hand dances up and down where her tongue previously was, making you involuntarily squirm against her touch.

"Just ask her." Trinity tells you in the same voice reserved for explaining the obvious to Whitaker. You want to argue back and ask why doesn't she, she's the one that started this!

"You still there, darling?" Baran's voice drips into the room. An invisible force.

"Mhmm." Trinity lands a finger on your clit. She doesn't move but presses the hard spot with a pressure you start to carelessly grind against.

"You sure everything's okay? I was so proud of you and Trin last night. Following the rules like such good girls."

You whimper. Words like those are always a weakness, combined with Trinity's ministrations you feel damned.

"C-can..could..can Trinity and I...you know.?" You ask, hoping that maybe Baran'll feel generous after your good behaviour last night.

"Can you what, darling?"

Trinity's finger begins rubbing circles over your sensitive skin. You’re forced to bite back a moan, hoping Baran has somehow grown naive in the 24 hours since you last saw her.

"Come on, darling." Trinity listens in, snickering and taking Baran's words as a cue to speed up. "Use your words." Baran is encouraging but firm.

"C-c-can T..Trinity and I.." You don't even know the right word to use. "P..p.pl..play together... ev..en though you arent here." You breathe in sharply, you can feel the orgasm building low in your stomach, gaining strength with each move of Trinty's hand.

"It sounds like you’ve already started, baby."

Trinity freezes. Your grinding hips still. Guilt seizes you and panic floods Trinity's wide-eyed stare. You'd feel a little smugger about knowing you’d be caught if you weren’t now desperately wet and disappointed you hadn't even touched Trinity . She grabs the phone from you, kindly using the hand not shimmering with your slick.

"I'm sorry B!!" If only Baran could see the pretty pout on Trinity's face. She has puppy eyes like no one you've ever seen. That Baran has any resolve against them speaks volumes about her will power. "I missed you. We missed you."

"Thats why we..." You want to plead your case. A shameful blush creeps over your skin. "We just. Couldn’t help it." You aren't going to drop Trinity in trouble. You might be a suck up but you're no snitch. You take the phone from her hand and Trinity leaves a kiss of thanks to your neck.

"Please, Baran...please." Trinity wraps her legs round your thigh. With her pressed so close you can feel her shorts are soaked through. "Trinity's achey...I can tell. Feel bad if I can't help her." Trinity groans into your neck listening to you. She angles herself again so she can speak.

"I'm sorry Baran, I wouldn't make baby break the rules. Just want her to feel good. Please, can we?"

"Hmmmm we'll see." She leaves that hanging there. You wonder again where Baran is taking this call and how she is keeping a straight face listening to her whiney needy girls. You get your answer sooner than you'd like.

"Sorry kittens, coffee breaks almost over. I'll call you girls tonight and we'll discuss it okay? No more touching until then. Am I clear?"

Reluctantly you both agree.

"Good girls. Love you."

She hangs up after you say "love you" in unison. You throw your phone off into the tangled duvet and lay back with a frustrated groan. Trinity rolls herself back over you and plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Thanks for not telling."

"Hmm I wouldn't. Could kill you though. How am I meant get through the day like this?" You grind your wetness up into her so she knows exactly what she's done.

"You can start by taking me to breakfast. Seeing as mine." Her eyes look down your body "was interrupted."

Trinity Santos had promised herself she would get better about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Promised herself she would try to be more trusting. Would try not to pick apart intentions until her head was tied in knots and she was alone in her apartment again. It was going well. For the most part.

It was maybe not going well right now. But everything about right now was confusing.

What is a girl supposed to do when she finds herself on her ex-attending’s couch, drinking wine, alone with her, less than 24 hours after she became her “ex-attending”? What is a girl supposed to do when her ex-attending is also the current girlfriend of her ex-situationship? What is a girl supposed to do when she and her ex-attending have already finished a bottle, and her ex-attending is maintaining eye contact like she never has, and is pronouncing every syllable of every word perfectly, and placing her hand on Trinity’s knee to emphasize a point and then leaving it there?

Trinity knows what she, a girl, would do if this woman next to her on the couch (when had they gotten so close together?) was not her ex-attending. And Trinity definitely knows what she would do if this woman was not the current girlfriend of her ex-situationship. Her ex-situationship who has, admittedly, been being pretty nice to her lately. Her ex-situationship who gave her a ride home last week after her stupid car wouldn’t start. Her ex-situationship who last week had asked how she was doing and sounded like she actually cared about the answer.

So, as the hand on her knee shifts a little higher, and the shoulder next to hers leans in a little firmer (seriously, when had they gotten so close?), Trinity thinks it is maybe not insane to maybe look this particular gift horse in the mouth. To, for a moment, consider intentions. Because this is messy in a way she has been trying really hard not to be. It is maybe reasonable to not trust intentions at face value in this instance.

There’s a lull in conversation. Baran’s laughter at Trinity’s stupid joke tapers off and neither of them say anything to fill the silence and Baran is still making eye contact with her, laughter sparkling in her eyes, and Trinity knows exactly what she would do if Baran was almost any other woman in the world. And it seems like Baran knows too, because for a long moment, they’re not making eye contact. Because Baran is staring at Trinity’s lips.

The voice of Trinity’s therapist is in the back of her head reminding her that in addition to not assuming intention, she also has to work on asking intention. So, with a Herculean effort, she does.

Kind of. She’s had half a bottle of wine, and the way Baran is looking at her is making her a little dizzy. What comes out is maybe not a question so much as it is a statement.

“It seems like you want to kiss me,” she says, without pausing long enough to wonder if it is the right thing to say. (Progress!)

“I do,” Baran says simply, making eye contact again. Trinity might die or burst into flames or something if Baran keeps looking at her like that.

“Okay but you can’t,” Trinity says. Ex-attending. Ex-situationship’s girlfriend.

“It seems like you want to kiss me, too,” Baran counters with a little quirk of her eyebrow.

“Okay but I can’t.”

“Who says?” Baran’s hand is still on her knee.

“Well, for one thing you’re my—“ she stops herself. Trinity decides she doesn’t care about the ex-attending of it all. Ex-attending is not current attending. Which only leaves the other thing. “You’re dating my—“ she stops herself again. Yolanda had never been her anything. That had been the problem. “You’re dating Yolanda,” she finally finishes, a little lamely.

“I am,” Baran says simply. “Is that a problem?”

“I—“ Trinity is starting to feel like an idiot with all these starts and stops. Is it a problem? Since when had she decided it was her responsibility to care about how Yolanda felt? To have an interest in the success of Yolanda’s relationship, when she hadn’t gotten to have a relationship with Yolanda at all? Trinity wants to say no, it’s not a problem. Wants to give in and have the hot steamy affair makeout that Baran seems to be asking for. But Yolanda had given Trinity a ride home and asked how she was doing and cared about the answer. “Yeah, kind of,” she says finally.

Baran removes her hand from Trinity’s knee and shifts a little further away on the couch. She stays close enough that Trinity can still feel warmth radiating through her t-shirt, but she shivers all the same. She’s still making eye contact. There’s still laughter sparkling in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Baran says, once there’s space. “Yolanda told me she gave you a ride and that you talked. Clearly she didn’t cover all of the topics she was supposed to.” Baran drains her wine glass then, leans forward to place it on the coffee table before reaching back to take Trinity’s from her as well. Once she’s back, making impossibly deep eye contact again, she continues. “She knows you’re here tonight. And she knows where I’m hoping tonight might go.”

Trinity thinks her heart might beat out of her chest. “And that is?” she asks, surprised by how even her voice sounds.

“Well, to start,” Baran’s hand is back on Trinity’s knee. “I would like to kiss you. Would you like to kiss me?”

And Trinity is not at all looking the gift horse in the mouth when she finally leans in and does.

—

The bed was empty next to her. She ran her hand over the vacant spot. Still warm, just about. The room was dark, that ink black that meant it was late enough to be technically AM hours.

She slipped out of bed. The bedroom door was ajar. Yolanda recognised the meaning behind it; pulled as close to shut as Trinity could get without risking the noise it would have made if she had let it click closed.

A weight settled in her stomach, heavy and unpleasant. She opened the door.

She found Trinity at the dining table. She sat with both knees drawn up to her chest, bare feet curled against the chair seat. One of Yolanda's old hoodies covered her frame, spine curled inwards under the fabric. She didn't look up as Yolanda entered. Her gaze was fixed on the cinnamon bun on the table.

Yolanda pulled a chair up and settled next to her, but didn't reach out. Two years together had given her an encyclopedia of knowledge about Trinity. Like the way she took her coffee. The way she lit up whenever she held a scalpel. The way she sang quietly when she thought no one could hear her.

The way she flinched at soft touches when she was hurting.

The cinnamon bun sat on a small plate. They'd bought it yesterday. They both knew what today's date was.

Trinity had told her last year about Allie. She'd cried and Yolanda had listened, and over time Trinity had allowed herself to say her best friend's name again. Not often, but enough that her voice didn't always waver over the syllables anymore. Could get through a story and smile at the end, telling Yolanda how Allie had a sweet tooth, how she brought cinnamon buns to every practice and laughed whenever the icing smeared on Trinity's nose.

They sat together in silence. The tears hadn't fallen yet, sitting in Trinity's eyes like a pool. The moonlight breaking through the curtains caught on them, glinting.

Yolanda wasn't going to move. She would stay here until sunrise, past her morning alarm and into the next night if she needed to.

Trinity tried to speak, and her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. "I realised... This year marks the point that I've lived for more years without her than I had with her."

Yolanda ached. She wanted to wrap her in her arms, hold her tight enough to take some of the pain from her. She wanted to speak, tell her it would all be okay. But that's not what Trinity needed, not yet.

"I keep thinking it will get easier. That's what everyone says right? 'Time doesn't fix it but it does make it easier to carry'." She laughed and there wasn't an ounce of humor in it. "People are fucking liars."

And finally the tears began to fall, noiselessly tracking down her cheeks. Not a sob or a wail, but a deep and unrelenting stream of grief. No longer held back, just arriving like it had never left.

"Hold me. Please, Yola."

Now. When she'd asked, when she was ready. Yolanda's arms slid around Trinity's shoulders, pulling her tight into her chest. She ran her hand along Trinity's spine, a firm pressure through the soft fabric of her stolen sweatshirt. The other hand cradled Trinity's head, tucked into her neck.

Trinity trembled in her arms. She clutched onto Yolanda, gripping the back of her shirt, knuckles pressed hard enough to bruise. Yolanda did not care about bruises.

"I've got you. I've got you, mi amor."

Yolanda could feel the front of her shirt getting wet, tears soaking through the fabric. She continued murmuring into her hair, soft and gentle and sure, both of them clutching hard onto the other.

Yolanda had once been terrified of her feelings for Trinity. Old trauma and fears had almost kept her from the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. When she realised that she loved her it hadn't been some big revelation. There were no fireworks or musical numbers. She'd just looked inwards, for once, and seen Trinity's name etched on her heart like it had always been there.

She held her tighter.