Are you finishing in me or on my scrubs

She's still half-dressed in those pale blue scrubs, one shoulder slipping down, the fabric bunched and wrinkled from hours on shift — and now this.

The question hangs in the air between you, direct and unapologetic, her eyes holding yours with the kind of tired confidence that comes from a long day and a very specific need.

You feel the weight of the choice settle in your chest, lower — she's already leaning back, already decided she wants it either way, and that certainty alone is almost enough to finish you.