Chapter 5 #2

As the shift picks up again, the hospital settles into its late-night rhythm, quieter than usual in the calm of the Christmas lull. Gabrielle and I fall into step like always, our movements seamless, the kind of partnership forged through months of working together. But now, every glance, every accidental touch feels different—deliberate, intentional.

A couple of hours later, as I jot down notes on a patient’s chart, I glance up and catch Gabrielle looking at me. It’s not the quick, professional glance I’m used to—it’s smoldering like he’s undressing me right here in the hallway. My breath stutters and my pulse kicks up as his gaze lingers for a beat too long before he turns back to his work, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small, knowing smirk.

Another hour passes in a blur of patient rounds and quiet conversations with the night staff. By the time the clock reads past 1 a.m., the hospital has settled into a rare calm. I’m perched at the nurse’s station, finishing paperwork, when I hear the soft scuff of footsteps. Gabrielle leans in beside me, close enough that the warmth of his breath tickles my ear.

“I want to fuck you,” he says, his voice rough.

My pen slips from my fingers, clattering onto the desk. My head snaps up, locking onto his gaze, but he’s already straightening, his expression cool and composed, as though he didn’t just drop a line that my overactive, horny brain will replay on a loop for weeks to come. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving me frozen for half a second before my legs move on autopilot, trailing after him. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can only pray Julia, the 60-year-old nurse on call tonight, didn’t notice the way my cheeks flamed as I hurried to keep up.

We slip into the empty on-call room, the soft click of the door shutting behind us, cutting off the muted sounds of the hospital. The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a bedside lamp that casts warm, flickering light. Gabrielle turns to face me, his eyes dark, burning with intent. From his pocket, he pulls a small bottle of lube and a pack of condoms. The sight makes my breath hitch, heat pooling low in my belly.

Gabrielle steps closer, his hands tangling in my hair as his mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is hungry and consuming, yet beneath the urgency lies a tenderness, as if he’s savoring every moment we have.

“God, I want you,” he says against my mouth, his voice thick with desire.

His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me firmly against him. The solid warmth of his body radiates through our shirts, every point of contact igniting a primal need. His fingers make quick work of undressing me, and I shiver under his touch, my breath catching.

When I’m finally naked before him, his gaze travels over me, dark and intense, like he’s memorizing every inch. “So beautiful,” he whispers, the reverence in his tone making my heart skip.

He undresses himself next. I can’t look away as more of him is revealed—lean, sculpted muscle, his entire body breathtaking. When he’s fully bare, his cock is already painfully hard again, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire through me.

Gabrielle steps closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says.

I nod, unable to find my voice. God, I want him to wreck me, to slam me down and fuck me senseless.

He guides me to the small bed, helping me lie back. Then he pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, warming it between his hands before pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh. His touch is slow and careful as he slides one slick finger along my entrance, teasing, before gently pressing in. I let out a soft gasp at the sensation, my body adjusting as he moves with care.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his free hand caressing my thigh. “Let me make you feel good.”

I nod, exhaling shakily as he starts to move his finger, sliding in and out in a rhythm that’s both soothing and electrifying. When he adds a second finger, the stretch stings slightly, but the way he watches me—his gaze locked on my face, reading every reaction—makes me feel safe.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his fingers curling just enough to hit a spot inside me that sends pleasure surging through me. I moan, my hips arching instinctively, and he smiles—a dark, satisfied curve of his lips.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice dropping into something darker, more seductive. “I’ll make you feel even better.”

His fingers move faster now, scissoring and stretching me. He takes his time, his other hand stroking my thigh, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along its inner side. By the time he pulls his fingers out, my body is trembling, desperate for more.

Gabrielle rolls the condom over his length, slicking himself generously with lube. He kneels between my legs, his cock pushing slightly against my entrance as he leans over me, his lips hovering above mine.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling with anticipation. “Please.”

He holds my gaze as he slowly presses forward, the head of his cock nudging my entrance before sliding in, inch by inch. The stretch is so good, a mix of pleasure and pressure, and he pauses, giving me time to adjust. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping my hips as he holds himself back.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his voice thick with need, and I moan in response. “So fucking good.”

When he starts to move, it’s slow at first, each thrust deep and measured. My body arches into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders as I moan his name, the sound echoing in the small room. His lips find mine again, swallowing my cries as he thrusts deeper, his pace quickening.

“God, Ray,” he growls, his voice wrecked.

He adjusts his angle, and suddenly he’s hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust. Pleasure crashes over me in waves, my body trembling beneath him as he moves faster, harder. His hand slides between us, wrapping around my cock, stroking me in time with his thrusts. I cry out, my hips bucking helplessly into his touch as the pressure builds, each movement pushing me closer to the edge.

His grip tightens, his strokes perfectly in sync with the relentless rhythm of his hips. He pounds into me harder, the intensity stealing my breath until the pleasure is so overwhelming I can’t hold on any longer.

When I finally come, it’s with a cry that feels ripped from my soul, my release spilling between us as my body convulses beneath him. Gabrielle follows seconds later, groaning my name as his climax overtakes him, his body shuddering against mine as he spills inside me.

He collapses onto me, his weight grounding me as we both struggle to catch our breath. For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the room filled only with the sound of our labored breathing and the faint hum of the hospital beyond the door.

Finally, Gabrielle presses a soft kiss to my temple, his fingers brushing through my hair. “Merry Christmas,” he says, his voice full of warmth.

I laugh, closing my eyes as I bask in the warmth of his body, feeling like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. “Merry Christmas.”

***

The day after Christmas, Gabrielle and I both have a rare day off. We spend it at his apartment, where he insists on making a proper—if belated—Christmas dinner. And, because I somehow always find a way to make things awkward for everybody, I’ve invited Cat to join me and my new boyfriend for dinner.

While we wait for her to arrive, I sit at the kitchen island, sipping wine as Gabrielle checks on the glazed ham in the oven. The smells wafting through the kitchen are nothing short of heavenly, and my stomach grumbles in anticipation.

“I still can’t believe Cat called my eyebrows gay,” Gabrielle says, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

I cringe, the memory of my post-coital confession flashing through my mind. Why, of all things, did I have to blurt that out? Now, I’m fairly certain Gabrielle is going to bring it up the moment Cat walks through the door.

“To be fair,” I say carefully, “when you approached her at the party, she did backtrack and say you’re definitely not gay.”

Gabrielle straightens up from the oven, closing it with a soft click before turning to face me. “Actually, when I went to talk to her that night, it wasn’t really about her.”

“What?” I blink at him, wineglass paused halfway to my mouth.

He grins, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he walks over to the stool beside me. “I was trying to ask her about you. I wanted to know if you were seeing anyone.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He sits down, his grin widening. “But then you showed up, and I completely lost my nerve.”

“So when she told me you said you were waiting for her…”

“I was waiting to talk about you,” he finishes, leaning in to put a soft kiss on my lips. “I didn’t plan to act on it or anything—I just wanted to know.”

I let out an incredulous laugh, setting my glass down before it spills. “We’re both idiots.”

“Maybe,” he says, his smile softening as his eyes meet mine. “But we got here eventually.”

I reach for him, pulling him down into another kiss, this one longer, deeper. When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against his, my lips finding his as I whisper, “We should probably thank those mystery shots.”

Gabrielle laughs, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between us. “Definitely. I need to know what was in them.”

I chuckle, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “Me too. I actually had this whole conspiracy theory about them…”

THE END