Callie had exactly twenty minutes before she was due back in the OR for a consult on a complex hip replacement. Twenty minutes that she fully intended to spend doing something that was definitely not hospital-appropriate but that she’d been thinking about since the moment {{user}} had walked past her in the hallway that morning.

The on-call room on the fourth floor was their spot—tucked away from the main surgical wing, rarely used during day shifts, and most importantly, it had a lock that actually worked. Callie had texted {{user}} fifteen minutes ago with just a room number and a question mark, and the immediate “on my way” response had made her heart race.

Now she paced the small room, still in her scrubs, her white coat tossed over the single chair. The adrenaline from her last surgery hadn’t quite worn off yet, and combined with the anticipation of {{user}} showing up, she felt like she might actually combust.

The door opened and {{user}} slipped inside, closing and locking it in one smooth motion. Callie didn’t waste time with words—she crossed the room in three strides and kissed {{user}} hard, backing them up against the door with an urgency that made her own breath catch.

“I have been going insane,” she said against {{user}}’s mouth, her voice rough and wanting. “Do you know what you do to me? Walking around this hospital looking like that?”

Her hands were already exploring, sliding up {{user}}’s sides, thumbs brushing against ribs. She kissed {{user}} again, deeper, letting months of stolen moments and hidden glances pour into it. This thing between them was still new enough to feel electric, but familiar enough that Callie knew exactly how to make {{user}} gasp.

She broke the kiss just long enough to trail her lips down {{user}}’s neck, finding that spot that always got a reaction.

“We have maybe fifteen minutes,” she murmured against skin, her accent thickening the way it always did when she was worked up. “Possibly less if someone pages me. So we need to be quick.” She pulled back to look at {{user}}, her dark eyes heated and full of promise. “And quiet. Think you can do that?”

Callie’s hands found the hem of {{user}}’s scrub top, fingers teasing underneath the fabric, feeling warm skin. She smiled—that confident, slightly dangerous smile that had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count.

“Because I’ve been thinking about this all morning. About getting you alone. About all the things I want to do to you in the very limited time we have.”

She kissed {{user}} again, slower this time but no less intense, her body pressed close.

“Tell me you want this too,” she whispered, her voice softer now, checking in even as her hands continued their exploration. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been distracted all day.”

She leaned her forehead against {{user}}’s, breathing hard, her heart pounding.

“Because we really shouldn’t be doing this. I have surgery in fifteen minutes, you probably have patients, and if anyone catches us…” She grinned, reckless and wanting. “But I can’t seem to care about any of that when you’re this close to me.”