5. Lillian
LILLIAN
L illian sat in the break room, nursing a cup of stale coffee.
The hospital was quieter at this hour, the usual buzz of activity muted as the evening shift took over.
Her fingers tapped absently against the side of her mug as her mind drifted back to the week she had just survived.
Her first full week as an intern had been brutal—long hours, demanding surgeries, and the ever-present weight of expectations hanging over her like a storm cloud.
But none of that compared to the tension simmering beneath the surface every time she was around Dr. Lang.
Rebecca.
She couldn’t stop thinking about that first meeting in Rebecca’s office, how her pulse had raced when she realized who her mentor was.
Every interaction since then had been charged with an unspoken tension, a shared secret that lingered in the air between them.
Lillian wasn’t sure if it was attraction, curiosity, or something deeper that pulled her toward Rebecca, but she knew one thing for sure: she was in dangerous territory.
Her phone buzzed on the table, and when she picked it up, her heart gave a small jolt. It was a message from Rebecca: Meet me in the west wing OR prep room. 10 minutes.
No pleasantries. No context. Just an order. Lillian stared at the message for a long moment, her pulse quickening. She knew she shouldn’t go—she knew this was heading into territory that could ruin them both if anyone found out—but the pull was undeniable.
She downed the rest of her coffee, wiped her hands on her scrubs, and headed down the hallway toward the west wing.
The OR prep room was dimly lit, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead flickering slightly. It was empty at this hour, the hustle of the day shift long gone. Lillian’s footsteps echoed softly as she entered, her breath coming in shallow, nervous bursts. And then she saw her.
Rebecca stood near the counter, her back to Lillian, her posture impossibly straight, as if she was preparing for another surgery. But the moment Lillian stepped closer, Rebecca turned, her eyes locking onto Lillian’s with an intensity that made the breath catch in her throat.
Rebecca’s dark eyes were filled with hunger as they looked at Lillian.
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them heavy with anticipation, neither of them willing to speak first.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Lillian finally whispered, though her feet refused to move.
“No,” Rebecca replied, her voice low and controlled, “you shouldn’t.”
Lillian took a slow step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. “But you called me.”
Rebecca’s gaze softened, just for a second. “I did.”
The distance between them closed, and before Lillian could think about the consequences, she crossed the room, her fingers grazing Rebecca’s wrist. The contact was electric, sending a rush of heat through her, and in that moment, all thoughts of family, reputation, and responsibility disappeared.
Rebecca’s hand slid up to Lillian’s neck, her touch firm but not aggressive, her thumb brushing against the pulse point just below Lillian’s ear. Lillian tilted her head slightly, her eyes half-closing as Rebecca’s lips hovered inches from hers.
“I’m not supposed to want this,” Lillian murmured, her breath shaky, the words barely louder than the dull hum of the ventilation.
The prep room smelled of chlorhexidine and warm metal; glove boxes lined the wall like a reminder to behave, and the strip light above them flickered once as if in warning.
Rebecca’s mouth hovered at Lillian’s jaw, not quite a kiss, a whisper against her skin. “Neither am I.”
And then the gap between them vanished.
The first brush of lips was cautious, a careful press that tasted of coffee gone cold and restraint held too long.
It felt like testing a wire under tension, both of them listening for the snap.
Lillian’s hands lifted and hesitated before finding the narrow of Rebecca’s waist, the fabric of her scrubs soft and thin under her palms; the contact steadied her and undid her at the same time.
Rebecca kissed her again, deeper, and the caution dissolved, replaced by heat that rose fast and sure, as if their mouths had been teaching each other this rhythm in secret for months.
Rebecca turned her, guiding rather than pushing, and Lillian’s back met the cold steel of the counter with a startled breath.
The chill shocked her skin through the thin cotton of her top, a bright contrast to the warmth where Rebecca pressed close.
Fingers slid into Lillian’s hair pulling it loose, not rough, not gentle either—anchoring her, holding her still while Rebecca set the pace, mouth claiming, retreating, returning, building something steady and inexorable between them.
Lillian answered without thinking, her lips parting, her hands fisting and smoothing at Rebecca’s sides, gathering scrubs in restless handfuls like she could pull her closer and quiet the noise inside her head all at once.
Lillian felt Rebecca’s hand pressing between the elastic of her scrub pants and her skin, seeking her out, fingers slipping inside her panties.
Lillian gasped.
Rebecca’s hungry dark eyes met Lillian’s and Lillian felt herself melting. She felt wetness pooling between her legs, in her panties.
“If you want this, Lillian, I need you to ask me for it. I need explicit consent.”
Lillian nodded. Rebecca’s mouth was inches from hers. She could feel the heat of Rebecca’s breath against her lips.
She felt more wetness between her legs.
“Please… yes… I want it… I need you…” she gasped as she felt Rebecca’s fingers edging lower, moving through her pubic hair.
“What do you need?” Rebecca growled.
Lillian took a deep breath, “I need to feel you inside me.” Lillian’s voice was husky. “Please… fuck me.”
Lillian felt Rebecca’s fingers dipping lower still, cupping underneath her and dragging long and slow against her wet and needy pussy.
“Oh my god…” Lillian thought her legs might give way beneath her. Her whole body began to shake. She felt like she couldn’t wait any longer.
“Please,” she murmured.
She felt Rebecca’s mouth clash against her own lips suddenly and both at the same time, Rebecca’s tongue pressed inside her mouth and her fingers pressed deep inside her pussy.
Lillian moaned loudly around Rebecca’s tongue as she felt her fingers, her long graceful lovely fingers begin to fuck her.
She thought she might explode there and then. She felt so close to orgasm already and Rebecca had barely touched her.
She felt Rebecca’s tongue pressing further into her mouth, tangling with her own.
Then she felt Rebecca sucking on Lillian’s own tongue, pulling it deep into her mouth as her fingers fucked Lillian.
In and out, thrusting deep. Lillian felt them banging against her G spot deliciously and she felt Rebecca’s thumb sliding against her clitoris.
Pleasure began to build in a knot deep inside her that threatened to unravel at any time.
Rebecca released her tongue and her lips moved to Lillian’s neck, to her ear, sucking her earlobe before her lips moved up slightly.
“Come for me, baby.” Rebecca’s whisper was loud in Lillian’s ear.
Lillian felt tremors all through her body and suddenly her climax tearing through her from the depths of her being as though it might tear her apart completely.
She heard the loud and primal cry of an animal, before realising that it was her own cry. She came and came and came as though Rebecca’s fingers were both tearing her apart and putting her back together all at once.
She lost herself in the moment as she felt Rebecca’s fingers ease out of her and her hand finding its way back out of the waistband of her scrubs.
Rebecca eased back by a fraction, foreheads touching, both of them breathing hard, the thin cotton cap at Lillian’s crown askew from Rebecca’s fingers. For a suspended beat they just rested there, sharing air, eyes closed.
“This can’t happen again,” Rebecca said, and the words landed with the weight of a promise she hated keeping. Her voice was tight, threaded with effort, as if saying it cost something she didn’t have to spare.
“I know,” Lillian whispered, though even as the syllables left her she felt the truth resist, stubborn and shining in her chest. She didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not later. The admission trembled behind her ribs like a secret trying to be born.
Rebecca’s hand slid from Lillian’s hair to her shoulders, a slow, steadying pass that felt like apology and care at once.
She pressed one last, gentler kiss to the corner of Lillian’s mouth—nothing that could be misread if someone walked in, everything that could be remembered if no one ever did—and stepped back half a pace, enough space for sense to return, not enough for the wanting to cool.
The room seemed louder again—the distant clatter of a trolley, a voice echoing from the corridor, the clock over the sink insistently marking time.
Lillian drew a breath, squared herself against the counter, and lifted her chin.
“I know,” she said again, steadier now. But the look they shared before Rebecca turned away told a different story, one neither of them would put into words here: that what had just happened wasn’t a mistake to erase, it was a line crossed carefully—and that, for better or worse, neither of them was going back.
Later that evening, after the heat of the moment had cooled and the reality of what had just happened began to settle in, Lillian found herself at her family’s home for their usual Sunday dinner.
The large, elegant dining room felt suffocating as she sat with her sisters, their voices filling the air with conversation that barely touched her.
She felt raw and exposed, the memory of Rebecca’s hands on her still fresh, as if the heat of it hadn’t fully faded from her skin.