smoke | @kingdonmicrofic july 13 | 489
sexually explicit content 🚨😋😋
Mel used to be one of those kids, the annoying ones who would dramatically cough when someone smoking a cigarette passed by, to make them rethink their choices. She didn’t realize until later in life how black and white she saw the world back then, everything fitting neatly into the categories of good or bad.
Frank Langdon, she’d realized, was one of life’s many gray areas. He was smart, empathetic, strong; she watched him excel through the end of his residency, land a job as an attending at PTMC, and that didn’t even come close to the way he loved her. He braided her hair when she was too tired, made sure she took her medicine every morning, and had given her orgasms so mind-melting she couldn’t describe them.
He was also brash, self-doubting, and, since rehab, a smoker. He asked her out a few months after coming back, and when he picked her up for the first time, she struggled with the lingering scent of stale tobacco in his car.
“Sorry. I can quit smoking in here,” he said, rolling down the windows and blasting the AC.
“No, don’t worry,” she said, a daring hand moving to his thigh. “I’ll get used to it.”
The first time he’d kissed her, she tasted the smoke on his tongue, light and sweet. She liked the newness of it, the unfamiliarity. The first time he took her home, her face buried in his sheets, she smelled it, faint and mixed with the clean scent of his detergent, and she let out a moan.
The problem was that now, every cigarette she smelled reminded her of him. A patient came in after smoking three packs in a night, hyperventilating from nicotine overdose, and she zoned out, thinking only of his tongue against hers. When her neighbor smoked his pipe in the morning her stomach would flutter, remembering the fogged windows of his car, the pack of American Spirits that she saw in the center console when she leaned over to suck his cock.
In the ambulance bay one day, after a particularly devastating case, he lit one up while she held onto him, grounding each other until both of their breathing had returned to normal. The smell of the smoke took her brain elsewhere, watching the way it drifted from his perfect lips. She couldn’t help but lean in, kissing sloppily at his jaw when he moved to ash it.
“Woah, slow down,” he said with a smirk.
“I’m sorry,” she whined, “I can’t help it. I think the smell just drive me crazy now because it reminds me of you.”
He laughed and shook his head, taking another long drag as he stared at her.
“You can’t really be telling me that the smell of cigarettes makes you horny.”
She blushed, burying her face into the scrubs on his shoulder.
“Mel, angel,” he said, lifting up her chin, “you Pavlov’d yourself.”
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