Work Text:
Garcia corners her in storeroom that no-one ever wants to go to because it's so out of the way from the ER. She lets the heavy door click shut behind her and turns Trinity around with one hand, rough. It's kinda hot. Trinity pushes down the part of her brain that protests at being jump-scared, ignores the small part that reminds her of her task to find more of the nice blankets —because the patient in room six was nice to her and confused and lonely— and focuses on how Garcia is looking at her.
Every interaction is an addicting rush, Garcia pushing her to be more, berating when she fucks up, and then all being forgiven by the next time they talk or cut someone open. Trinity's pretty sure she did the chest tube perfectly this time, no dropped scalpels, and so she doesn't know which this is.
"You're getting more demanding," Garcia tells her, and she doesn't let go of Trinity's shoulder where she pinned her to the storage shelves, but her grip loosens to comfortable.
So it's a bit of the first two and maybe a bit of a fourth thing that's been brewing, Trinity can get behind this.
"I thought you liked me being demanding." She says and can feel the heat of Garcia's hand leaking through her scrubs.
Garcia looks over her shoulder at where the door is closed behind her, "I did say that didn't I. Well, you did well."
The praise is a rush to Trinity's head, and if she was someone who blushed heat would be creeping up her neck. She grins. "You going to let me do the next one all on my own."
Garcia's other hand traces up her neck and cups her jaw to draw Trinity closer.
"Maybe." She says, voice low, "it depends how good you can be."
Trinity can feel Garcia's breath on her cheek and she's caught, hook, line, and sinker. She leans forward, slightly up, and answers by taking initiative with a kiss. It starts off soft, maybe tentative, as Garcia lets her take want she wants.
It's rushing warmth, intoxication, wet and sweet. Trinity would be happy with just this to break the tension, but she would rather push the limits, demand a little bit more. She slides her hand up and around Garcia's back, leaves one digging into the scrubs at her waist and hooking the other up and over Garcia's shoulder to tug her closer.
Garcia laughs into her mouth and crowds her closer until the shelves dig ice cold into Trinity's back and makes her gasp. The kiss deepens and finally Garcia's hands move off Trinity's shoulder and jaw. They trace her neck and torso, always careful to avoid messing up her hair.
One hand find's its way under her scrubs and up to caress the skin just under the edge of her bra. At the same time Garcia slips a leg between Trinity's thighs and the contact elicits a moan that Garcia immediately kisses away.
"Less demanding now?" She says when she pulls away.
Trinity chases her mouth, chases the rush, "You give me everything already," she pants.
Garcia is smirking down at her like she knows exactly how much Trinity is wanting. Hell, she probably knows with how Trinity is sagged against the shelves and shaking for the friction of her knee.
They breath for a second and Trinity wants to fall apart, wants to keep waiting right her for ever, wants to keep aching just for Garcia's touch. Garcia organises Trinity's arms to hook over her neck and every little movement is more friction that sends sparks through her abdomen.
"Please." She says (asks, not begs).
Garcia makes eye contact and hums. Then its back to lips on lips and a warm hand rucking up Trinity's scrubs top to properly tug at the tight band of her bra and rub at the hot skin. Trinity digs a hand into the back of Garcia's neck and hopes she doesn't leave a mark.
Finally, finally, Garcia's other hand slips past the waistband of Trinity's trousers to push down her briefs. The first brush fingers against hair makes Trinity gasp for breath and lift her hips impatiently. Garcia separates their lips to bite at her jaw, just soft enough to not leave a mark.
Trinity lets Garcia hold her in place, tries not to make a noise when those fingers slide against her clit. The touch is feather-light at first and then rougher, rubbing just so. It's the perfect amount of stimulation, because of course Garcia knows just what's perfect.
She tries to breath steady, tries to remember how they got into this, but every thought is interrupted by another electric shock. The tease of Garcia's lips on her jaw, the hand tight around the base of her breast, the rub against her clit. It's better than doing any risky procedures, a step up from Garcia's hand on hers as she guides her through a cut.
The orgasm is a rush to her head and a satisfying tremble through her muscles, it feels like a prize. Garcia brings a hand to hold Trinity's jaw —turns her head for a soft kiss— and wipes the other on the inside of Trinity's briefs.
Trinity kisses her back, swallows her soft sigh. She doesn't know if it's been fifteen minuets or half an hour. It could have been longer, maybe Dennis has organised a search party while Garcia's been pulling her apart in a storeroom.
"You've did so well," Garcia tells her, like it was just another teaching opportunity.
Trinity pulls back to look her in the eye, swollen lips the only evidence of it all.
"Your turn?" She asks, trails her hands down Garcia's arms.
"Next time." Garcia adjusts Trinity's scrubs with little touches that burrow under her skin. "You owe me."
She gives Trinity one last look over and shoulders open the door. The sounds of the hospital suddenly filters in behind her and Trinity is reminded that she came here for a reason, that she's at work. She smooths over her hair and resettles her scrubs. Grabs a blanket from the shelf and walks out like she won't be replaying every second for the last hour of her shift.