The trauma bay reeked of antiseptic and copper, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp bite of adrenaline. Monitors beeped in erratic rhythms as Dr. Kim Serrano stood frozen at the foot of the gurney, her gloved hands hovering uselessly over the exposed femur fracture while Dr. Brendon Park worked with surgical precision. His voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel—low, clipped, demanding—as he issued orders to the team, his broad shoulders hunched over the patient in a stance that brooked no hesitation. Kim's pulse hammered in her ears, the weight of his presence pressing down on her like the humid summer heat trapped in the ER's fluorescent glare. She had seen this look before, the one that made residents scatter, but she stayed rooted, her fingers trembling as she reached for the wrong instrument and faltered mid-motion.

Park didn't flinch or correct her aloud. Instead, he extended his hand expectantly, eyes never leaving the surgical field, and when she finally passed the retractor with a shaky exhale, he simply nodded once, keeping her pinned at his side through the rest of the reduction. The heat from his body radiated across the narrow space between them, the scent of his cologne—something clean and sharp like cedar—cutting through the room's heavier odors. Kim's breath caught as his forearm brushed hers during a critical adjustment, the contact sending a jolt of awareness through her nerves that had nothing to do with the patient's vitals spiking on the screen. She could feel the eyes of the other staff flicking toward them, the unspoken tension coiling tighter with every precise command Park delivered, his jaw set in that unyielding line that promised both scrutiny and something darker simmering beneath the surface.

By the time the case stabilized, Kim's scrubs clung damp to her skin, her mind replaying the brief freeze like a loop of failure she couldn't escape. Park stripped off his gloves with efficient snaps, turning those intense dark eyes on her without a word of dismissal, the air between them charged with the weight of his silence.

Park's silence lingered like a held breath, his dark eyes pinning her in place until he finally turned away, striding from the trauma bay with the same unyielding efficiency that had defined the entire case. Kim exhaled shakily, but the motion sent a sharp, familiar throb through her lower back—an old injury from a college rugby accident that had flared during the frantic reach for instruments earlier. She pressed a hand to the ache, willing it down as she straightened her posture, refusing to acknowledge the way her scrubs stuck to her sweat-slicked skin or the tremor still lingering in her fingers. She couldn't leave now; the team was still stabilizing the patient, and any sign of weakness would only confirm Park's unspoken doubts about her.

Before she could force herself back into motion, Dr. Robby appeared at her side, his calm presence cutting through the fading chaos with quiet authority. "Go see Park," he said evenly, his gaze flicking over her with that perceptive edge that missed nothing, from the way she favored one hip to the tension in her jaw. "You're injured, Kim. Don't argue—get it checked before it gets worse." His words carried no judgment, only the steady concern of someone who'd watched too many residents push through pain until it broke them, but the directive landed like a command she couldn't dodge.

Dread coiled tighter in her chest as she nodded stiffly and turned toward the corridor leading to Park's consult room, her steps measured against the pulsing ache that radiated down her thigh with every shift of weight. She wouldn't leave the shift entirely—she'd insist on observing or assisting from the sidelines, anything to prove she could handle the pressure without freezing or faltering again. The memory of Park's forearm brushing hers earlier sent an unwelcome flush across her skin, mixing fear with something hotter, more insistent, that made her pulse quicken as she approached his door.

She pushed open the door to Park's consult room without knocking, the hinges whispering shut behind her as the sterile scent of antiseptic and his cologne—sharp cedar and something darker—wrapped around her like a restraint. Park stood at the exam table, his back to her, broad shoulders filling out his scrubs as he stripped off his gloves with precise, economical motions. He didn't turn immediately, but the air shifted, charged with that same unyielding focus that had pinned her in the trauma bay. "Robby sent you," he said, voice low and flat, a statement rather than a question. "Lower back. Let me see it."

Kim's pulse hammered as she stepped closer, the ache in her hip flaring with each step while a treacherous heat pooled lower, twisting her fear into something molten. She gripped the edge of the table, bending forward slightly as instructed, and felt his hands—warm, callused, unhesitating—slide under the hem of her scrub top. He lifted the fabric with clinical detachment, exposing the curve of her waist and the faint bruise blooming along her spine, but his fingers lingered a beat too long, tracing the ridge of muscle with a pressure that made her breath catch. "Don't tense," he murmured, one palm pressing flat against her lower back while the other gripped her hip to steady her, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just above the waistband of her pants. The contact sent sparks racing through her nerves, her pussy clenching involuntarily as fear of his disapproval warred with the raw, insistent throb of arousal; she could feel the heat of his body behind her, close enough that the fabric of his scrubs brushed her thigh.

His examination deepened without warning, hands sliding lower to cup the swell of her ass through the thin material, palpating the injury with deliberate, probing strokes that bordered on possessive. Kim bit back a whimper, her face flushing as moisture gathered between her legs, the explicit intimacy of his touch—fingers grazing the cleft of her cheeks, then dipping to test the tension in her inner thighs—igniting a desperate need she couldn't suppress. Park's breath stirred the hair at her nape as he leaned in, his voice a controlled rumble. "You're tight here. Relax, or this will hurt more than it has to." Yet his grip tightened, one hand splaying across her lower belly to hold her still while the other worked under the edge of her scrubs, skin on skin now, mapping the curve where her ass met her thigh with a thoroughness that left no doubt this was no longer purely medical. Desire coiled hotter, her nipples hardening against the table's edge as she arched subtly into his touch, the mix of dread and craving making her voice tremble when she finally spoke. "Dr. Park... please."

Park's response was immediate and unyielding, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her scrubs and yanking them down in one fluid motion, exposing the flushed skin of her ass and the slick heat between her thighs. "Please what?" he demanded, voice low and edged with command as he pressed his palm between her legs, cupping her soaked pussy with deliberate pressure. Kim gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily as two thick fingers parted her folds and sank inside, curling against that sensitive spot that made her walls clench and drip. His cock strained hard against his scrubs, the thick outline rubbing against her thigh as he leaned over her, his free hand pinning her wrists to the table. "You don't freeze here," he growled, thrusting his fingers deeper with precise, relentless strokes that had her pussy fluttering and her juices coating his knuckles. "Not under me."

She moaned, the sound raw and broken, her body betraying every ounce of professional fear as arousal surged hotter, her breasts pressing against the cool surface while her inner muscles milked his invading digits. Park withdrew just long enough to free his cock—long, veined, and leaking at the tip—before notching it against her entrance and driving in with a single powerful thrust that stretched her wide. Kim's cry echoed off the walls, pain and pleasure blurring as he filled her completely, his hips snapping forward in controlled, punishing rhythm that hit deep with every stroke. "That's it," he murmured against her ear, one hand sliding up to grip her breast through her top, thumb circling her nipple. "Take it. Don't tense. Don't freeze."

When he finally pulled out, leaving her trembling and empty, he tugged her scrubs back up with clinical efficiency, though his cum already trickled down her inner thigh. "This isn't finished," Park stated flatly, his gaze locking onto hers with that same unyielding intensity. "You're coming home with me for proper follow-up. No arguments." Kim straightened slowly, legs unsteady, the confrontation bubbling up despite the haze of satisfaction. "I freeze because of you," she admitted, voice shaking but steady for once. "Your control... it terrifies me. But here, like this... I can't stop wanting it." Park's hand settled possessively on her lower back again, guiding her toward the door. "Then you'll learn not to freeze anywhere else."

The corridor stretched ahead like a gauntlet, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as Park's hand remained firm on the small of Kim's back,

Park's Grip