Page 37 of Christmas On Call
They shed clothes with shaking hands—scrub tops, pants, the layers that separated them—until skin met skin and Asha made a sound that was half-sob, half-moan.
“Max,” she breathed, and it sounded like prayer and apology and plea all at once.
Max kissed her again, swallowing the words, and let herself feel everything: the softness of Asha’s skin, the racing of her pulse, the way her body arched into Max’s touch like she was drowning and Max was air.
“Just lay back and this time, I’m taking control. You need to let me in, Asha,” Max whispered as her mouth traced down Asha’s body.
And Asha didn’t say anything. She presented herself to Max, ready for whatever she wanted from her.
Max’s hands slowly made their way down Asha’s thighs, and up to the top again. The wetness took her by surprise as she slipped her fingers towards it, so inviting and desperate. Ashamoaned softly as Max started to massage slow circles into her clit and slowly pushed her fingers inside.
Max needed to fuck her. She needed Asha to let go. Her fingers thrust inside as Asha’s body arched. Her fingers gripping onto the sheets of the on-call bed. Max didn’t say anything, she just fucked her hard and deep. She fucked her full of passion and intent. She wanted to fuck her forever.
Max looked at Asha, in between kissing her deeply, as her fingers continued to work inside of her.
“I do really love you, Max,” Asha groaned between kisses.
“I know you do.”
Max moved down her body and pushed her mouth onto Asha’s clit without hesitation as the fucking continued.
Asha’s skin started to pucker up with goosebumps as Max felt her orgasm crashing towards her in waves. She slowed down, letting her enjoy every second of it before melting on top of her.
They laid there silent, soaking in the moment. Pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Life in the hospital on-call room seemed so much simpler.
“Look at me,” Max demanded, her voice rough with emotion.
Asha’s eyes opened, dark and wet with unshed tears. “Max?—”
“I love you too, by the way. Just in case you needed to hear that again,” Max interrupted.
“Tell me what you need from me right now,” Max whispered against her lips.
“You,” Asha managed, her voice wrecked. “Just you. All of you.”
“So where do we go from here? Are you really going to ignore that form and pretend none of this exists?” Max’s words were filled with desperation.
“No. I’m not. But first I have some things to sort. Just give me 24 hours okay? Don’t press me, fuck me, or hammer mymessages. Just give me 24 hours,” Asha smiled gently, pulling the cover over her body.
“Um, a little weird, but it’s better than the answer I expected. And I can’t promise I won’t try to fuck you again if you stay here next to me like this,” Max laughed.
They laid in bed for just a little longer before they had to get back to real life outside of those walls.
“Quick shower before we head back?” Max smiled.
“Just a quick one.” Asha rolled her eyes as they pulled themselves back up and into reality.
11
ASHA
Asha sat in the waiting room of Dr. Linda Brown’s office, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture perfect despite the anxiety churning in her stomach. The space was deliberately calming—soft gray walls, abstract art that looked expensive but inoffensive, a small fountain in the corner that made gentle trickling sounds meant to soothe. It wasn’t working.
She’d found Dr. Brown’s number three days ago, after the on-call room, after promising Max twenty-four hours to sort herself out. That deadline had come and gone forty-eight hours ago, but Asha had needed to find the right therapist—someone who specialized in LGBTQ+ issues and family dynamics, someone with excellent reviews, someone who could see her immediately because the deadline from Harrison was ticking down like a bomb.
The door to the inner office opened, and a woman in her late fifties appeared—elegant in a simple black dress, with silver-streaked hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“Doctor Patel?” She extended her hand. “I’m Doctor Brown. Please, come in.”
