#pt br

From there, the friction became more frequent but never disrespectful. You admired his efficiency; Brendon was, indeed, a good doctor. Arrogant, but a good surgeon. But there was something more — the way he looked down at you, the way his rigid, authoritative posture made your breath linger in your chest a moment longer, the way there was now a desire for him to put you in your place, to whisper the dirtiest names right against your ear. There were so many sinful thoughts in one mind that sometimes, in the brief moments of rest — not from work, but from your personal life — you'd find your hand inside your panties, thinking about how he might repeat that time he found you too irritated in the break room, locked the door, pulled you against his chest, and made you come gloriously while his other hand covered your mouth so no one could hear a thing. And now, amidst all the work, there was only the memory of that day; your schedules weren't aligning well enough for you to be together for any real length of time.

And now, it wasn't exactly what it seemed — you weren't masturbating thinking about your coworker; you just needed to relieve the tension that had been building in your head, more specifically in your home.

You and your mother had never gotten along well. She was always a bit narcissistic, invasive, and disrespectful of your privacy. She had the terrible habit of entering your room without knocking, and when the door was locked, she'd insist until the last second with relentless knocking for you to open it. That's why your teenage relationships never lasted long, and you could barely have sex or satisfy yourself properly.

And now, living alone, you could do whatever you wanted — well, until the day she showed up at your door with the excuse that she'd "stay a few days." No warning, no date to leave; she just appeared and walked right into your apartment, the one you'd earned through hard work.

And these had been the most hellish weeks of your life. She constantly complained that you were barely home, that you worked too much, that your apartment hardly looked lived-in, that you still weren't even dating. With every complaint, you let out a different sigh, an rolled eyes that would surely make you see your brain.

And to top it off, there was Brendon, getting assigned to the same cases as you.

"You always get to the best cases first, don't you?" Brendon's voice echoed in your ears as he entered the trauma bay. "Still embroidering, Dra. Barracuda? You used to be faster." He taunted while pulling on gloves. Park had been visiting the ER more often than you'd liked during that damned week. "I thought you liked more exposed injuries." He analyzed the arm opposite the one you were working on — a piece of flesh ruined by an explosion, twisted and burned.

"At least I didn't skip that class. I have seen your sutures, it's a fucking shit." You shot back more acidly than you should have, and he raised an eyebrow. "But thanks for the compliment. I'll finish embroidering and send the rests for you to finish mangling." He noticed your eye-rol, he could smell your bad humor.

"Little fish wake up on the wrong side of the ocean? Get swept away by the tide last night?" Perlah and Jesse stared at each other from across the room; the tension this time was palpable, suffocating. "Needs an amputation. Just do the damn job."

"Good work takes time. If you knew how to do it, you know that. Oh, I forgot..." You tied a knot and pulled the pieces of flesh together, restarting the work. People said your sutures barely left scars, and you could say you prided yourself on that. "Sharks only know how to mangle."

"Are you bragging about a suture?" He asked, pulling off his gloves, arms crossing over his chest, eyebrows drawn together in visible confusion.

"Did that offend you?" You arched an eyebrow in response, your expression revealing the impatience starting to surface. "Should I change your nickname to Dr. Sardine?" Jesse stared at Perlah with slightly wide eyes; you two usually traded barbs, but things never escalated like this. They were two predators fighting over territory. "I'm done. Do your fucking job, Brendon."

You pulled off your gloves with more anger than necessary, throwing them in the trash can in the corner. But you could still feel his gaze burning into your back. The conscious, non-irritated part of your mind knew he'd get back at you for this later, and there would certainly be more bruises than you'd like when that happened. Normally, you craved that. You liked provoking him, trading barbs — it was exciting and fun, it spiced things up in the bedroom. But today, specifically, you were irritated, tired, and suffocated.

Well, maybe that explained the current moment: your face pressed hard against the mattress, Park's hand gripping your hair with a strength worthy of an orthopedist, your hips arched at an angle that would certainly leave your lower back a little sore thanks to the force with which he entered and exited your pussy. His other hand held your ass so tightly that you could already feel the marks of his fingers on your skin, already marked with bites and hickeys that would certainly leave colors between red and purple, as he always did.

He grunted low, almost a growl, as he felt your pussy squeeze his cock — wet and hot, making obscene sounds fill the room alongside your muffled, breathy moans. For Park, it was the most beautiful symphony; he could come just from hearing the sound your pussy made whenever he buried himself back inside you.

"Your bad mood always gets fixed with a good fuck, doesn't?" He whispered in your ear when he pulled you up, the hand that was gripping your hair moving to your neck, stopping air from reaching your lungs for a few good, delicious seconds. "You're nothing more but a brat desperate for my cock."

You rolled your eyes, your legs trembling as he slowed the pace of his thrusts just to hear you whimper, to hear you beg for more, dripping and lubricating his cock further. You were so close to coming, so close it bordered on sensitive. You could see your vision starting to darken at the edges, tears wetting the corners of your eyes as he laughed hoarsely, biting your ear, growling low as he gave you another bite on the shoulder, marking you with his teeth.

"What's wrong Little Fish?  Run out of words?" You whimpered again, grinding back against him, against the hand he'd moved from your waist to your clit, circling that sensitive spot so lightly it made you tremble.

You'd miraculously managed to get your mother out of the house for a few hours—enough time for Park to show up at your door on your shared day off that you'd miraculously managed to coordinate. His expression was irritated from having let you slip away for two more days after you'd been a damned brat for weeks.

But fate loved to mess with you, and this was another one of those moments. The front door of the apartment opened with a click you'd recognize anywhere. Even amidst the moans and brutal thrusts, your senses blared an alarm. Your mother was home again. You still had the damn habit of recognizing everyone's footsteps, whether your family or your coworkers.

"Brendon." You panted, grabbing his wrist. "Brendon... My mother -- Ah fuck!" Maybe, just maybe, you moaned louder than you should have when he pulled out almost completely and thrust back in one go, ripping an orgasm out of you that made you see stars, making your body shiver from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck.

"Fuck your mother. I haven't come yet." He said as he bit the other side of your neck, not caring about leaving visible marks. "Keep moaning for me and squeezing me like that."

"Son of a bitch…" You complained low, rolling your eyes as he started thrusting hard into you again, making your body fall forward again — because besides your weak legs, he loved the sight of your ass up in the air.

Then the knocks on the door interrupted your half-slow reasoning as the next orgasm started to tighten your stomach, making your heart race.

"Mom... I'm..." You bit the sheets, rolling your eyes. Brendon's cock pulsed inside you. Fuck, you loved coming together with him. "I'm... busy, for fuck's sake!" But that didn't matter to her; the knocks continued, and Park growled in irritation, taking out the frustration that didn't make him stop in a hard slap on your ass, certainly leaving another mark — not that your entire body wasn't already marked.

"She's plenty busy... Unless you want to see your daughter getting fucked!" Brendon was harsh, arrogant in the way that made your stomach churn with anxiety and that, in the present moment, made you moan loud enough to make more than clear what you were doing and betray how close you were to orgasm.

It was enough to make you come, your pussy pulsing around him, making him grunt and pull your ass against his hip as he filled you, his hot cum dripping down his cock as it still occupied the space inside you.

With your senses still dulled by pleasure, you managed to hear your mother walking away, muttering curses about what a depravity it was to have sex without even being married. But right now, it really didn't matter, because your dear "babyshark" was already starting to move again.

"I'm not done with you yet." He whispered, and turning your face to the side, you could see that toothy grin only he could give. It made you shiver and let yourself be flipped over on the bed like a ragdoll.

Well, after all, that's what sharks do. They love to tear things apart.

Brendon's body covered yours again like a blanket on a cold day — warm, slightly sweaty, and God, the weight of him on you pulled out an ecstatic sigh. Fuck his mother, how would she react to everything she'd heard, to everything that was happening? You had Park starting to get hard again between your legs, his thick, heavy cock, still wet from both of your orgasms, pulsing near your pussy, rubbing against your sensitive clit, causing tremors in your already weak legs and shivers from the base of your spine to the rest of your marked body.

"Little fish..." He bit your ear, dragging his lips across your cheek before returning to your mouth, biting your lip. "You're being very scandalous... What will your mother think of me?" You didn't answer, since Brendon silenced your swollen lips with another kiss, another bite, another moan swallowed by him as his cock slid easily inside you in a single thrust.

His chest vibrated with a laugh. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his tense biceps; your nails left irregular red lines across every centimeter of skin, and you knew he liked it—actually, he loved it. Park didn't leave much space for you to get used to his cock; he started moving again, brutally, stretching every centimeter of your pussy again, making you choke in surprise on a moan that he silenced by putting his hand over your mouth before forcing your lips open and pushing two fingers inside.

"I would love to put you on top to ride..." He whispered, half-hoarse, groaning when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. "But I doubt you can move, you get so dumb after you come... You don't even remember how many times you've come, do you?" He laughed; it wasn't exactly a serious question. His other arm slid under the curve of your knee, bringing it closer to your stomach, opening you up even more for him. "Or how you provoked me like a brat at the hospital — the only place you should have a little respect."

Brendon took his fingers out of your mouth, still wet, stimulating your left nipple with weak pinches, watching you squirm, gasp, and squeeze him even tighter. It was incredible how he loved to air dirty laundry in those moments, throw in your face all the actions that shouldn't leave that room — but it was a game you both liked, even without admitting it.

"Just because... I called you a sardine?" You asked amidst a moan, lowering your gaze across his face, from his hungry blue eyes that devoured you as if you were the best feast a starving man could have, directly to where your bodies connected, whimpering when he brought his other hand down to caress your clit. "You... Ah, shit.. Fuck!"

Your hands went down to his wrist, trying to make him stop caressing that place like that, or you'd come again. He pushed your hands away with a firm slap, disapproving of your action with his gaze, and the thrusts slowed down. Brendon pulled out almost completely, leaving just the head inside you, moving slowly.

"You called me out in front of the new residents..." Park retorted with a growl, the hand that was on your clit moving up with enviable speed to your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. "Staring at me with that slut face while i was assessing the case."

"You were taking too long." A slight pout formed on your lips, feeling a little pain from the pressure.

"I was assessing. I know how to do my job and i think you know that better than anyone." He gave two light slaps to your cheek, before moving again, his hips slamming against your ass with a smacking sound. "But if that's not enough, i'm going to remind you."

"That you don't know... How to do a suture right?" You moaned with the slap, this time harder, that he gave to your face. "Wretch..."

"It would be easier if you knew how to ask." He retorted, going back to moving at the same speed, his balls slapping against your ass.

"You like..." You asked with a half-smile, but your mouth soon opened in a silent moan, your eyes rolling under your lids when he lowered his face to your breasts, biting one of your nipples.

"Say it." Brendon growled against your skin, leaving the mark of his teeth on the inner corner of your chest.

"You like when i provoke... You like to put me -- in my place." You murmured, grabbing his hair between your fingers, the soft strands getting lost between your fingers as you pulled, forcing him back to your nipple.

"What is it?" You knew he had that damned smug smile on his face, but still he sucked your nipple between his red lips, as swollen as yours.

"Underneath you." You confessed in a murmur, your pussy contracting around him again — your orgasm was coming again, and only he could give you what you wanted so badly.

"Good girl." He whispered, moving up your marked neck, staring into your slightly damp eyes before kissing you, but this time there wasn't so much haste in fact, it even seemed more tender than the others. But of course, with Brendon, nothing was exactly what it seemed.

Park pulled your lip with a bite, leaning back on his hands to continue the movements fast, almost violent. His chest vibrated again with a grunt as he pulled both your legs up, pressing them against your stomach, giving him the view he wanted: your face damp from the few tears beginning to escape the corners of your eyes, your red, swollen mouth, the teeth marks and hickeys on your neck and breasts, the mark of his fingers on your neck, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, completely wet.

You didn't know if it was the stimulation of his fingers or the hunger in his eyes that made you come again. Your vision darkened for a few seconds, the obscene sounds interrupted only by your sharp moan, accompanied by his, slightly hoarser and more guttural. Brendon came inside you for the second time that night, his body leaning forward, his abdomen contracted as his semen still spurted inside you, even more than the first time.

He lay down beside you, sighing deeply, turning his face with some concern to look at you when he noticed you were too quiet.

"Are you okay, little fish?" Brendon held your face, involuntarily checking your pulse. "I'm sorry... I hurt you this time?" You shook your head no, pushing him back onto the bed, lying down on his chest.

"I just want to rest a little before facing my mother..." Park laughed low, weak —more like a breath of sound than an actual laugh — and hugged you, kissing the top of your head.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏🦈

You and Brendon took longer than you expected in bed. He carried you to the bathroom, helped you shower, and dressed you in an extremely comfortable silence given the chaos that would be waiting outside your bedroom door. Your steps came first, heading toward the kitchen, and you already knew you'd find your mother sitting at the dining table, with a face you knew better than anyone was just the prelude to a fight.

Park appeared right behind you, wearing only sweatpants. Of course he'd walk out of the bedroom shirtless, making it very clear — clearer than it already was on your neck and thighs, and from what he'd said — what you two had done in the bedroom. He walked toward the refrigerator as if it were a ritual: you finished having sex, showered, and would go eat something in the kitchen. The only difference was that today there was an extra guest.

"You think this right?" Your mother questioned, arms crossed over her chest when she saw you sit down in the chair with a slight uncomfortable groan. "I arrive and find my daughter moaning like a prostitute, and you let’s him say those kinds of things to me?" Brendon was still focused inside the refrigerator, certainly looking for something for you both to eat.

"Mom..." You sighed, lowering your head as you massaged your temples. "We'll talk about this later."

"No, you're not married. I didn't raise you like this. How can you bring just anyone into your house and—"

"And have wonderful orgasms? Make her feel good?" Brendon grumbled as he closed the refrigerator, staring down at your mother. "And no, i'm not just anyone, mother-in-law."

Mother-in-law?

Your mother arched an eyebrow, surprised by Brendon's audacity, her mouth opening to retort about the interruption and his lack of manners.

"And we didn't know you'd arrive so early, and as your daughter already said, we can talk tomorrow, we haven't rested from our shift yet." He walked past her like he did in the PTMC — the matter was closed, with no room for discussion. "Now let me make her something to eat. If you want to join us... you're welcome. But if you're going to complain to her like you've done for the past few weeks, i think it's better if you go to the guest room and watch some TV."

It was the first time you'd seen her speechless — or at least acknowledge that she'd lost, or respect the boundaries imposed by someone. She got up still with that annoyed look, but Brendon's indifference actually made her retreat to the room, closing the door with a little more force than necessary. Park made some coffee, eggs, pancakes, bacon, and toasted whole wheat bread, and you both ate in silence, as you always did. But that damned little word wouldn't leave your mind.

When you went back to the bedroom, the restlessness and curiosity were too strong.

"Mil?" You questioned, sitting on the bed, arranging the pillows against the headboard to lean on. "Was that just to make her feel guilty?"