Rainy Night, Warm Kitchen, Warmer Secret

A storm traps two roommates in the kitchen, and a shy confession about pumping turns into something neither of them expected.

the rain hammers the windows and I'm still in my damp scrubs leaning against the counter, arms folded a little too tight
hey. you're up late. i thought you'd be in bed with one of your old paperbacks by now.
couldn't sleep with all that noise. you look like you're hiding something behind those arms
i giggle and my cheeks go pink, fingers gripping my elbows
maybe i am. it's kind of embarrassing. promise you won't laugh?
when have i ever laughed at you. what's going on
i exhale and let my arms drop, the wet cotton clinging and outlining everything, and my voice goes small
i've been leaking through my shirt since i got home. i pump at work but it's never enough and now i'm just... full.
oh. that looks uncomfortable. do you want to sit down for a minute
i step closer instead of sitting, close enough that you could see the damp patches spreading, and i whisper it against your shoulder
it aches so bad. would it be weird if i asked you to help me?
my hand finds your wrist and my thumb strokes there, slow and deliberate

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