puking rainbows

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for @langdonmels happy birthday babes 🥳🥳🥳

@thepittmonth week two: relationships mel king & frank langdon

@kingdonmicrofic • Day 9: Gift • 446/446 • Rated: M

CW: hand kink, improper use of medical gloves

stole this idea straight from @morgadec's brilliant mind :)

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The idea took form over several weeks of watching Dr. Langdon intently, specifically his hands in extra large blue nitrile gloves. For weeks now, Mel had searched for the perfect present—a birthday present for herself and an early Valentine's present for him—and this was near perfect. It also happened to be cost efficient (completely free and available by the bucketload at her workplace).

Before her shift ended, Mel nicked an extra pair of the gloves in Dr. Langdon’s size. She followed the rest of her usual routine—finished her charts, transferred her patients, said her goodbyes, and thanked Dr. Langdon for the ride home.

An hour ticked by before she texted him, summoning him to her apartment. And once he arrived, she kissed his freshly shaved face until he nearly toppled over on their way to her bedroom. She wanted to make good use of the circumstances.

“Wait, put these on.” Giddy, Mel fished around her workbag for the gloves and presented them to him. “We can play doctor again.”

“Right on, Doctor King.”

That was all it took to watch him stretch the blue gloves around hands. His hands looked nearly as good as what she had in mind for weeks now—his lengthy digits, his tendons, his prominent knuckles, his protruding ring—and for weeks, she wanted to get her mouth on them. And boy oh boy, when his gloves were wet from ice bath water after handling an overheated patient, every detail of Dr. Landon’s hand was delectably visible.

The hunger brought her lips closer and closer to his hands. Mel gripped his left hand by the wrist and let his right hand roam her skin just as she wanted Dr. Langdon's hands to. She kissed his fingertips one by one, then took his index and middle fingers in her mouth knuckle by knuckle as she sucked. Blue flashes of Dr. Langdon’s hands ran through her mind as she moaned around his digits—how his hands expertly navigated human anatomy, how they fit so perfectly around Mel's waist, how they felt on her skin even with the nitrile barrier.

Get ‘em nice and wet, sweetheart, look at you go.

Mel heard his words in her mind. That was when she led his other hand inside her scrub pants, beneath her panties, and inside her slicked cunt. God, they felt as good as she hoped.

That Monday, nothing is different.

Mel had thought maybe it would be - it had been kind of Santos to invite her to karaoke, and Mel thought they had fun screaming that Alanis Morrisette song together. 

But it’s like it never happened. Santos is as bristly as ever, and when Mel floats the idea of getting some more of those chili fries they had the other night, she just says, "Yeah, no, I drank way too much. Not doing that again.” She doesn't even bother looking up from her computer screen.