need a boy to let me experiment with his body. just lay back and let me watch how you twitch, when you squirm, the sounds you make. find out every little bit of your pleasure by studying you, you don't have to be nervous, the most beautiful things deserve to be learned. spend hours tracing my fingers along you, feeling every little pulse beneath your skin.
god i could just tear you apart
you're so handsome like this
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summary: you've always found Jack's command of the emergency department to be extremely sexy. after you have an unfortunate incident in the ER you need your husbands care more than ever. only dr. Jack Abbot can help you with a really bad ache.
contains: MDNI! established relationship, fluff, tiny bit of angst, smut, descriptions of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, readers age not explicitly stated (but it's age gap in my heart)
word count: 8.3k
author's note: 1,000 followers special!!! truly grateful for each of you :) i'm not really sure if this is true med play but i gave it my all! hope you like it <3
It all started with an emergency appendectomy. The Pitt was buzzy for a Tuesday night and you had been called down from the surgery department so many times you just started lingering around the hub in the early hours of the morning waiting for another, inevitable consult. Being the Pitts favorite trauma surgeon definitely has its perks, getting to work alongside your husband Dr. Jack Abbot being your favorite.
“What do you got for us, Amboy?” Jack says, as Medic Amboy wheels in a middle aged man on a stretcher.
“Allen Billings…” Amboy says, “Pallet of roofing tiles fell eight feet, hit his upper arm with an open dislocation.
“Ouch.” Ellis winces.
“Lena let’s get surgery in here, stat,” Abbot calls to the charge nurse, “ask for-”
“Yeah, I know who you want,” Lena smiles, her ear to the phone, already paging you.
“Two rounds of fent, 1 then 0.5 per kilo. A and O, with good vitals.” Amboy guides the gurney into trauma one.
“Nazely, hold the arm steady,” Ellis instructs.
“Sure,” Nazely says, looking slightly wide-eyed.
“Uno, dos, tres,” Ellis counts and the group lifts Allen from the stretcher to the bed, “Mr. Billings, I'm Dr. Ellis, this is Dr. Abbot, and Dr. Toomarian.”
You push in the door, rubbing your hands with sanitizer, giving Jack a little smile before introducing yourself to the patient.
“Best surgeon in the hospital,” Jack adds and you roll your eyes, trying not to blush.
“Oh, it really hurts,” Allen cries in pain.
“We’re gonna take care of that, okay?” You look down at Allen with softness in your eyes, an unusual contrast to the typical severe nature of trauma surgeons. It’s how you caught Jack’s eye in the first place, “any headache, chest or belly pain?”
“No, just the arm,” Allen says through gritted teeth.
“Sats 99. Pulse 104. BP 116/78.” Mateo calls out.
“What do you think, Dr. Toomarian?” Jack turns to Nazely.
“Oh, um, it is an open dislocation,” she says, looking down at the gruesome state of Allen’s arm on the bed.
“Can you be more specific?” Ellis asks.
“I think it's inferior,” Nazley bends forward, trying to get a better look.
“Do you remember the name for that?” Jack says.
“Sounds like a Harry Potter spell,” you offer.
“Um-” Nazley pauses, looking back at you for help.
“Luxatio erecta,” you say, soft and encouraging.
“Correct,” Jack smiles at you, “check the neuro-circ,”
“Alright, Allen, can you feel me touching you?” Nazley says, and Allen nods, “okay, good. Can you wiggle your fingers?”
“Yeah,” Allen says, winces as he does so.
“Good radial pulse,” Nazley says.
“Let’s get ancef and gentamicin on board,” you say to Mateo before turning back to Allen, “that’s gonna take care of the pain for you, alright?”
“Okay,” Allen says, looking a touch relieved.
“Sedate for traction, countertraction,” you say as Mateo injects the meds into the IV, “and he needs a CT angiogram to rule out vascular injury.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Jack says, beaming at you, “ok, sedation orders, Dr. Ellis.”
“100 of propofol,” Ellis says, “titrate to effect,”
“Be back with that,” Mateo says, quickly exiting the room.
“Now irrigate like hell, Nazely,” Ellis says.
“Ok,” Nazley replies, beginning to wash out the wound with saline.
“How you feeling, Allen?” You say, warmth in your voice, Jack’s heart flutters. Mateo pushes back into the room, hooking up Allen’s IV to the propofol. Your eyes drop back to Allen, “ok, we’re going to sedate you so that you’re unconscious for the procedure.”
“Ok,” Allen says, already hazy. Slowly, his eyes flutter closed.
“Alright lets get the band around his shoulder,” you say, moving to the right side of the bed, “Ellis you’re with me,”
Ellis moves across the bed from you, taking Allen’s arm in her hands, gripping down firmly. You take the band in your hands and rest your foot against the bed for leverage.
“Okay, on my count,” Ellis nods at you, “one, two, three.”
“Come on,” you groan, pulling as hard as you can on the band, “humeral head is not reducing,”
You and Ellis release the tension with a huff, both trying to catch your breath. You turn to Jack, silently asking for help.
“Okay, we're gonna get this back in,” Jack says, moving beside Ellis, “Nazely, stick four fingers under that humeral head,” he mimes the movement he wants her to make.
“Really?” Nazley raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, get in there really, really deep,” Jack says, and you can’t help but notice how that makes your heart flutter, “and when you feel the traction and lift it above the glenoid, that will convert this to an anterior dislocation, and it should pop right back in.”
“Okay,” Nazley slowly slides her fingers under the bone and looks back up to you.
“Ready to go,” you say, “one, two, three,”
A loud thunk echoes through the room as the bone pops back into place. Everyone lets out sighs ranging from relief to amazement.
“Oh, very cool,” Ellis says, looking down at Allen’s shoulder. You move to the opposite side of the bed, taking Allen’s arm in your hands, moving it around to test the mobility.
“Great movement,” you smile, “let’s get sterile saline dressing on him,”
“Shoulder immobilizer and CT,” Ellis adds and you nod in agreement. You snap off your gloves and turn to Jack, who now stands in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. You walk towards him, unable to help a smile forming on your lips at your sexy, smart, doctor husband.
“You’re very good,” you drop your voice so only he can hear, “that was… very attractive…”
“Yeah?” Jack has that knowing, sultry look on his face that’s usually reserved for your bedroom.
“Mhm,” you nod, your bottom lip between your teeth, “is that weird I thought that was sexy?”
“I’d hope you find me sexy,” Jack drops his hand to your waist, giving a small squeeze.
“Oh, I do,” you say, “very much so,”
“Alright, lovebirds,” Ellis interrupts your flirty banter, “let’s move Allen to a patient room, free up this trauma,”
“You got it,” you turn to her, eyes lingering on Jack for a moment, shooting him a little wink. He just smiles and shakes his head. You get Allen situated in a room in the north corridor, everyone clearing out besides you and Jack. Suddenly you feel a little chill run down your spine as a cramp swells in your abdomen and Jack notices immediately.
“You ok?” Jack's eyebrows furrowed at your flushed stare.
“Yeah,” you smile with a breath, resting your hand on your husbands hip, gently squeezing, “just need some water,”
“My water bottle’s near Lena’s computer,” Jack says, taking your hand from his hip, rubbing small circles on your skin.
“Go take a break,” Jack smiles, backing out of the room towards Shen's calls for an assist on an incoming patient.
"You're not my boss!" You call after him, and even though you can't see his face you know he's smiling. You wander towards the hub, squeezing your waist trying to relieve your cramps a little. Your period was early and the ache in your pelvis was uncomfortable but not something you had to miss a shift over.
Breathing deeply you sit in a swivel chair near Lena grabbing Jack’s water bottle taking long, desperate sips. Suddenly a wave of nausea washes over you. Something doesn’t feel right. Nausea, stomach pain, and is it starting to get cold in here? You know these symptoms by heart. You gently press in on your stomach, releasing pressure suddenly, the pain immediately feeling worse.
“Hey Lena,” you say, holding your head in your hands, trying to hide the strain in your voice, “Do you see Jack anywhere?”
“I’m not the one married to him,” Lena teases, her eyes still on the computer.
“I need a consult,” you say, becoming more nauseous by the second.
“Who’s the patient?” Lena asks.
“Um,” you swallow hard, “me I think,”
Lena finally looks down at you.
“Jesus, you’re white as a ghost,” Lena lifts her hand and presses the back of it against your forehead, “you’re burning up.” She looks up at the board to see which room is free.
“Olive, get Abbot to central 7 stat, we’ve got a code beige,” Lena says, resting her hand gently on your back, guiding you to the patient room, “Mateo, with me,”
“What’s up with you?” Mateo says, genuine concern in his voice as you flop back on the gurney.
“Please don’t use your nurse voice on me,” you breath, “I’m not a patient,”
“You’re about to be,” Mateo says, a little more playfulness in his voice, as he lines up the needle for your IV.
“Yeah,” you admit defeat, “I think it’s phlegmonous appendicitis… I don’t think it’s burst yet,”
“Thanks for the consult,” Lena says.
“Hey,” Jack pushes into the room with urgency, concern all over his face, “hey, what happened?”
“I thought it was cramps,” you say, suddenly feeling like you can’t hold it together anymore, not with him in the room. How could you? He’s your safe person.
“You’re ok,” Jack says, snapping on a pair of gloves. He leans forward pressing his lips to your forehead, “yeah, fever, what’s her temp?”
“102,” Mateo says.
“Didn’t realize that was the standard of care,” you weakly joke, making Jack smile softly.
“I’m gonna touch your stomach ok, baby?” Jack says, steady and focused.
“Ok,” you whimper.
Jack slowly pulls up your navy scrub top and presses his gloved hands to your stomach, feeling around your abdomen, “let’s get the ultrasound,”
“Up and running,” Mateo says, already handing Jack the wand and jelly.
“Abdominal rigidity,” Jack says, clicking his tongue, he squirts the jelly on your stomach and moves the wand against your skin, “let’s get Ceftriaxone plus Metronidazole on board,”
“You got it,” Mateo says, injecting the meds into your IV.
“Suppurative appendicitis,” Jack shakes his head, in worry for you as his wife more than his patient, “call the OR, we need a room now,”
Lena grabs the phone in the room calling up to the OR with urgency.
“It’d be nice if all our patients could diagnose themselves with your level of accuracy,” Mateo smiles at you. The pain meds start to kick in and you smile back, breathing out a laugh.
“Hey,” Jack snaps at Mateo, “not funny,”
“Jack,” you say, taking his hand, making him look down at you, “it was a little funny…”
“Surgery says to bring her up now,” Lena says, hanging up the phone, “they’re ready for her,”
“Ok,” Jack says, and suddenly the color drains from his face.
“Hey,” you squeeze his hand, “I’m gonna be ok,”
“I know,” Jack says, but his voice trembles.
“My guys can do an appendectomy in their sleep,” you say softly.
“I think I’m supposed to be comforting you right now,” Jack lets out a sad laugh.
“Mm,” you hum with a smile, “maybe…”
“Let’s get a move on, folks,” Lena says, unlocking the wheels to the bed. The group pushes you towards the elevator, Jack keeps one hand on the guardrail, the other firmly in yours. They make it up to the third floor and push you through the surgery department.
“What the hell did you do to her down there?” Jennifer, the surgery charge nurse, says to the Pitt crew as they roll past the hub.
“They burst my appendix,” you say from the gurney, playfully, “on purpose!”
“OR two is ready for you baby,” Jennifer says, nodding you all in that direction, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, clearly trying to hide her own anxieties for you.
“This is really fucking weird,” Garcia says as they push you into the OR.
“Relax, Yoyo,” you smile.
“Oh, I’m relaxed,” Garcia says, “you’re about to get the best appendectomy in the history of this hospital,”
“Can you take this seriously, Garcia?” Jack snaps at her.
“I’m deadly serious,” Garcia snaps back.
“Jack,” you squeeze on his hand, “she’s got this. Come here, give me a kiss,”
You pull him down to you and he places a sweet, soft kiss on your lips.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” you whisper with a smile.
“I love you,” Jack says, stroking your cheek, “so fucking much,”
“I love you so fucking much,” you say back.
“Adorable,” Garcia says flatly and Jack wonders how the two of you are such close friends, “can you please get out of my sterile field now?"
“Don’t watch,” you point a finger at Jack as he backs out of the room, “don’t do you dare watch them cut me open. Your heart will give out and they don’t need another patient to worry about.”
“I got him,” Mateo says, taking Jack’s shoulder, slowly guiding him out of the room.
“Hold him back if you have to, Teo,” you smile.
“You got it doc,” Mateo says, and pulls Jack out of the room.
It had been less than an hour. A perfect surgery, Garcia had said, and Jack knew she wasn’t just hyping herself up. There was a softness when she had come to get him that let Jack know she was taking this as seriously as he was. You were laying in a private recovery room on the third floor, the anesthesia still not worn off, while Jack sat in the room beside you, nervously tapping his foot.
Jack’s head snaps up when he hears you let out a little groan, he stands and walks right up to your bedside, pushing down the guardrail. Your eyes begin to flutter open.
“Hey, hey,” Jack says softly as your eyes open, pressing up against your bedside, taking you hand in his, “there she is. How are you feeling?”
“Mm,” you groan, “I feel tired,”
“That’s ok,” Jack says, “your only job right now is to rest,”
“Are you… my doctor?” You say looking up at him, a twinkle of confusion in your eyes. The lingering anesthesia is making you a bit delirious, “you’re very sexy for a doctor,”
“I’m not your doctor,” he shakes his head with a smile. You squint at him like you don’t believe him, scanning him up and down, your eyes stopping on his hip.
“But your badge says doctor,” you say, grabbing his ID, pulling it toward you, bringing it comically close to your face, “Dr. Jack Abbot,”
“I am a doctor but I'm not your doctor,” he clarifies, smiling down at you. “I'm your husband.”
You let go of his badge, seemingly shocked at this information. His ID snaps sharply against his hip and he winces through his smile.
“Oh my god,” you smile and reach toward him, grabbing the bottom of his scrub top and trying to pull him closer towards you, “are you in love with me?”
“I am,” Jack smiles, gently removing your hands from his shirt, holding them firmly in his, “I love you very much,”
“Wow,” you say, bringing your hand up to your cheek, “and I’m in love with you too,” you say it as a statement more than a question but Jack nods anyway.
“God, I hope so,” Jack teases.
“Do all doctors look like you?” You say, your eyebrows furrowed like you’re genuinely confused.
“Old?” Jack says, teasing you.
“Pretty,” you say, twirling the string of his scrub bottoms between your fingers.
“Is that right?” He says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
“Mhm,” you nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, “very pretty,”
“Well, I’ve got news for you,” he says, “you are very pretty too,”
“You think so?” You say, practically giving him heart eyes.
“Mhm,” Jack nods.
“Is that why you married me?” You ask, looking up at him with a look he can only describe as innocent.
“I married you because you’re brilliant, fun, sweet, witty, compassionate, grounded… you being beautiful is just a bonus”
Your mouth drops open as you look up at him, entirely enchanted.
“No… I remember you… Doctor Jack Abbot,” you draw out his name.
“I’d hope so,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.
“Sit,” you smack the bed next to where you lay, “sit with me,”
Jack perches his hip on the bed, not wanting to press against your body, still a little worried about your recovery. But he couldn’t be enjoying this more. Of course you’re always flirty with him but this wasn’t quick or clever, not your usual banter. This was unfiltered and raw. It was like you were a lovesick teenager, the way you were ogling him.
“How do you look so cute after having surgery?” He says, knowing this will make you blush. You giggle and tuck your head against your shoulder, bashfully.
“You’re cute,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. You take his hand, spinning his gold wedding band around his finger. In a moment of realization you quickly look down at your own finger and see that it’s empty, snapping your head back up to Jack.
“They took off your jewelry for surgery,” Jack says, “I have your rings.”
You smile that brilliant smile he loves so much as you hold your hand out, flexing your fingers as if he’s about to propose to you. Jack laughs and gets up, grabbing his backpack and pulling out a small pouch where he put your rings, he wasn’t just gonna let them float around in his pocket.
“This is your wedding ring,” Jack says, taking your left hand and sliding a simple gold band onto your ring finger. You take a dramatic gasp in.
“I do,” you say, looking down at your hand, Jack laughs.
“And this is your engagement ring.” He pushes a second ring on your finger, the diamond is brilliant, set on a gold band that matches your wedding ring, and his. You look down, wiggling your hand, making the diamond sparkle in the light.
“Pretty,” you say, looking utterly captivated, “so pretty,”
“You don’t usually wear your engagement ring to work, guess you forgot to take it off this morning when you weren’t feeling well,” Jack rests his hip on the edge of the bed again, stroking your hair gently.
“I would never take this off,” you say, looking at him almost befuddled, nuzzling the side of your face into his hand.
“You don’t ever have to take it off my love,” he says and you beam at him.
“I won’t. Ever.” You look down at your hand, giggling to yourself. Your eyes snap up to his, a mischievous glint in them as if you just got a brilliant idea, “are you allowed to kiss me?”
Jack smiles, shaking his head, almost in disbelief at your flirty earnestness.
“Yeah, I can give you a kiss,” he says, cupping your cheek, and leaning forward, placing a sweet, soft kiss on your lips. He pulls back slowly, gaze moving over your face. Your eyes are still closed, and you have a silly little smile on your mouth. Your eyes flutter open.
“Hi Dr. Abbot,” you smile at him, entirely smitten.
“Hi beautiful,” he smiles at you taking your hand and kissing it
“I need to tell you something,” you say, in a whiney voice.
“Ok,” Jack says, excited to see where you’re going with this.
“It aches really bad,” you whine and Jack tenses, switching into doctor mode.
“Where does it hurt, baby?” He stands, squeezing your hand, his eyes already scanning over your body looking for signs of injury. You grip down on his hand and move it down your body, placing it between your legs, right over your core.
“Right here,” you whimper, “I need you to make the aching go away.”
Jack lets out a breath that’s a mix between disbelief and amusement. He moves his hands back to your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands.
“Baby, I need you to listen very carefully,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “are you in pain right now?”
“No,” you pout, seemingly frustrated your master plan has failed.
“Ok, that’s good,” Jack nods, trying not to smile at your cute sulking, “when you say aching, what exactly do you mean?”
“I want…” you sigh, exasperated that he’s making you explain, your voice dropping to a whisper as you look at him with huge eyes, “I want to have sex with you, Dr. Abbot,”
“Oh my god,” Jack breathes out sharply in amusement, hanging his head forward before looking back up at you, “you don’t have to call me Dr. Abbot, baby, you can just call me Jack,”
“Jack,” you whine, reaching for the waistband of his scrub bottoms, hooking your fingers in, “it’s an emergency,”
“You wanting me to fuck you is not a medical emergency,” he says sweetly, grabbing your wrist, gently placing your hand back at your side.
“I think it is,” you say.
“Ok, should we get your doctor in here and get her opinion on it?” Jack says, the corner of his mouth tugging up.
“I want you to be my doctor,” you frown, your bottom lip protruding.
“I’m gonna take care of you at home,” Jack says, running his thumb over your knuckles, “is that okay?”
This seems to completely distract you, a playful smile spreading across your face again.
“Ok,” you say, smitten, “say you love me again,”
“I love you,” he says, looking at you with pure adoration.
“I love you,” you say, looking at him just the same.
Just as you're about to ask for another kiss there’s a light knock on the door. Jennifer pushes into the room.
“Hi,” she says, keeping her voice soft, “just coming to check on my girl. Should have known better than to let her hang out with you cowboys all night.”
You look up at Jack, not really recognizing this woman or the fact that she’s talking about you. You turn back to her, offering the only information that you’re sure of at this moment.
“I’m good” you say, moving your other hand to Jacks, so your hands encircle his much larger one, “this is my husband, Jack,”
“Yeah, I know Jack,” Jennifer gives an amused smile.
“Still a little groggy,” Jack tilts his head towards you.
“I see that,” she says, moving towards the bedside to check your vitals.
“Are you my doctor?” You ask.
“No, sweetheart,” Jennifer says, looking over her glasses at you, “I’m Jennifer, I’m the surgery departments charge nurse, we work together.”
“We do?” You look at her but turn to Jack to confirm this. He nods.
“Yeah,” Jennifer chuckles, “you’re a surgeon,”
“Wow,” you say, and then look down at your stomach, where your gown has ridden up, exposing your bandages, “did I do that?”
“No,” Jennifer says, seemingly delighted at your question. Jack turns his head away from you, muffling his laugh into his shoulder, “you didn’t do surgery on yourself,”
“Oh,” you look slightly disappointed at this information.
“But you’re my favorite surgeon in this department,” Jennifer offers, and this makes you light up.
“Really?” You say, your eyes wide and hopeful.
“Yeah,” Jennifer nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the word, “we have fun up here,”
“We’re friends,” you look up at her for confirmation.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Jennifer says, “we’re real good friends,”
“Ok,” you smile sweetly at her, “can I go home now? With Jack?”
“Not yet,” Jennifer gives you a sympathetic smile, “you gotta stick around here a few hours just so we can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re all good. I bet Jack will stay with you though,”
“Will you?” You ask with hopeful desperation.
“Of course,” Jack squeezes your hand.
“I leave you two,” Jennifer says, backing towards the door, “holler if you need me,”
“Thanks, Jenn,” Jack says.
“Bye, Jennifer!” You say and she gives you a little wave before the door shuts. You turn to Jack, your hands still wrapped firmly around his.
“Will you sit with me?” You ask, looking up at him, “I’m tired,”
“Yeah, baby,” Jack says as you start to scootch over on the bed, “careful. You gotta be careful. Precious cargo.”
You slow your movements slightly, making room for him. He rolls onto the bed, wrapping his arm around you as you snuggle your face into his neck, slowly falling asleep.
It’s been four weeks since your surgery and you’re growing restless. As a surgeon you know that you’re able to return to your daily tasks after the three week mark, but unfortunately for you, your husband is also a doctor. And he is insisting that you need to wait until the six week mark, until your internal tissue is healed, to go back to work, or do anything else, really.
It’s hard to be annoyed with him because he’s being perfect. So sweet and attentive. He cooks every meal, does all the laundry, cleans the house, and takes care of you: giving you foot rubs, bringing you little beverages throughout the day, checking your stitches every night before bed. He’s been working swing shifts so his hours are shorter and he’s at home when you need him. The only problem is that you need him. And he won’t give in.
He had told you all about your post-surgery flirtations as you tried to cover your face in embarrassment, but that just ended in him pulling your hands away and peppering your face with kisses while he whispered sweet nothings to you. The truth was you did find it incredibly sexy that he was such a good doctor. Watching him control a trauma always made a little heat spread in your chest. And you wanted him to control you that way. Jack liked to be dominant in the bedroom and you loved having him like that, but there was something different about him in the hospital, when he was Dr. Abbot, that clearly got you going.
The two of you haven’t had sex since before your surgery and you were starting to lose it a little. You’ve tried to initiate so many times but each advance is met with something like I want to, baby, so bad, but we gotta make sure you’re all better first. You know he’s being extra cautious because you're his wife. This isn’t even medical advice he’d tell a patient to follow. You both know that. But he’s unbreakable.
Jack knows he’s torturing you. He can see the desperate ache in your eyes when you try to be intimate with him. But this isn’t something he’s willing to take even the smallest chance on. Especially after his first wife. He tries to be logical. You’re healing beautifully. All your follow up appointments have been perfect. But despite what his head is telling him he can’t ignore the thrum of his heart telling him to be careful. It’s getting to him too. He’s spent nights fisting his cock in the shower, yearning for your sweet pussy, unable to get past this nagging voice inside him.
Jack pulls into your driveway after an easy evening shift, low foot traffic, only two traumas. He didn’t change out of his scrubs at the hospital, his stethoscope around his neck, an extra pair of blue rubber gloves in his pocket, a lollipop he had grabbed for a pedes before being hastily called to another trauma. He calls out your name as he comes in the back door but there’s no answer. Maybe you’re napping? He walks across the house to your bedroom and what he sees knocks the wind out of him.
“Hi Dr. Abbot,” you say as he pushes into the bedroom, lit with the glow of a few lamps, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Oh my god,” is the only thing he can think to say at this moment. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, body clad in white, lace lingerie, tits perky in your bra, thong clinging to your hips, thigh high stocking on your impossibly long legs.
“I think I need an exam,” you sigh, “I have a really bad ache that won’t go away,”
You’re looking at him so sweetly but the words go right to Jack’s cock. He drops his backpack at his feet, eyes still fixed on you as he swallows hard, a coy smile on your face. He thinks about you that night after your surgery, how you’d say nearly the same thing to him. Only now he actually has the chance to do something about it.
Fuck it.
“Then we better get you checked out,” he says, playing into your little doctor-patient act, sauntering over to the bed. You bite your bottom lip in satisfaction, looking up at him, spreading your legs so he can stand between them.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, eyes raking over your body with hunger. He drops a hand to his pocket, pulling out the gloves he’d brought home by accident. He snaps the gloves on, stepping between your legs, taking your face in his hands, running his thumb over your cheeks. You let out a little breath at the feeling of the cool latex against your skin.
“Perfect,” he says, almost to himself, and you can’t help but blush, “I’m gonna need you to lay down,”
Jack pushes your chest lightly and you fall back onto the bed, shifting so you’re laying against the pillows, perpendicular to him. He runs a hand down your body from your neck all the way down to your panties, stopping just before the hem, where you need him most.
“You gotta be a good girl and listen to your doctor, ok?” Jack says, his voice already rough with desire, “you gotta use your manners,”
“Yes, Dr. Abbot,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Jack sits on the edge of the bed next to you, he takes his stethoscope from his neck, putting in the ear pieces and pressing the cool metal disc to your chest, right between your breasts.
“Deep breath,” he murmurs, and you do so. He listens to your heart speed up as he moves the stethoscope across your chest. He pulls down your bra, pressing the chest piece to your nipple, making it harden under his touch. He hears your breath hitch, the sound intensified in his ear pieces as he drags the chest piece to your other nipple, making it pearl up as well. He pulls the stethoscope from his ears, tossing it to the side.
“Better take a closer look at these tits,” Jack says, sliding a gloved hand underneath your body, unclipping your bra and throwing it onto the floor. He grips down on your waist, slowly sliding his hands up until his thumbs are right under the swell of your breasts.
“Dr. Abbot,” you whine, trying not to squirm under his touch, “please,”
Jack slides his gloved hands up, squeezing and kneading the flesh on your chest, making you let out a little moan in relief. God, he missed seeing you like this, worked up and eager for his touch. He moves to your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, teasing your hard buds until they ache with sore pleasure.
“Nice and sensitive,” Jack says, his eyes fixed on your chest as he toys with your nipples, his cock straining against his scrubs. He sees you buck your hips up in his peripheral, smirking to himself, but keeps his focus on your chest. He grips your nipples between his fingers, shaking back and forth, jiggling your tits, making the damp spot in your panties bloom.
“How does that feel?” Jack rasps, his eyes tracing your face, your eyelids low with pleasure, lips parted with desperate breaths, cheeks flushed with want. You look so beautiful like this. For him.
“Feels so good, doctor,” you say in a breathy moan, rubbing your thighs together.
“Yeah?” He smirks down at you, kneading the palms of his hands back into your soft breasts, tweaking your nipples, making you squeak, “you like it when your doctor examines your perfect tits?”
“Yes,” you whimper, looking up at him desperately, “I like it, Dr. Abbot,”
“Good girl,” he says, letting go of your aching nipples, resting his hands on either side of you. You take in sharp anticipatory breaths, dying to know what he’ll do to you next, dripping because of your devoted husband's willingness to indulge in your fantasy.
“Gotta check your pulse now, pretty girl,” he says, bending forward, trailing his lips over your sensitive skin, licking up one side of your neck, while his fingers press against your jugular on the other side. Slowly he starts to kiss and suck on your throat. His cock is rock hard, but he resists the urge to palm himself through his scrubs, a little idea of just how he can use his instrument in his exam floating in the back of his mind.
“Mnm, Dr. Abbot,” you whine, keeping your hands by your side even though you’re aching to tangling your fingers in his hair, “feels good,”
Jack only growls against you in acknowledgement. He sucks a deep purple bruise into your skin and the feeling of his mouth on you is just euphoric.
“You got a perfect heart rate,” he says, lips still trailing on your neck, pushing himself up to look at you.
“Feels fast,” you breathe, eyes fixed on his lips, wanting them on yours.
“Mm,” he smirks, “that’s what happens when you get excited,”
Jack lets his gaze linger over you for a moment, your perky tits, nipples flushed a few shades deep with soreness, your little white panties, and these thigh high stockings are killing him. Those are staying on. He pushes up from the mattress, sauntering to the foot of the bed, eyes fixed on you the entire time.
“Show me where it aches, baby,” Jack stares down at you, gaze sultry and wanting. You part your legs slowly and move one of your hands down your body, running a finger over your lacey panties.
“Right here, Dr. Abbot,” you whine, making small circles on your clit, “aches really bad,”
How did he end up with someone so perfect?
“I’m gonna make you feel all better,” Jack says, pulling off his scrub top, “pull your panties to the side, I gotta exam your pussy,”
“Ok,” you whimper, hooking your fingers around the center of your wet thong and moving it so Jack can see your glistening core.
“Fuck,” he whispers before crawling onto the bed, settling himself between your legs, “we’re gonna do an external exam first,”
“Mm,” you hum, more whiney than you expected, planting your feet on the bed as wide as you can to accommodate your husband’s broad frame. You push yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him. He runs his gloved hands over your pussy lips, pushing them apart, watching your hole flutter and pulse around nothing. He can’t help himself, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss right on your entrance making you let out a soft oh sound.
“Is that the standard of care?” You breathe, looking down at him between your thigh, your bottom lip between your teeth. He looks up at you biting back his own grin before pinching the inside of your thighs, right at the top of your stockings.
“Manners,” he says in an almost teasing tone, “or I’ll have to stop my exam,”
“No- please-” you whine, flopping down on your back, “I promise I’ll behave,”
“Good girl,” he says, his voice rough. He moves his hands to your waist, hooking his fingers in the delicate lace of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs. Throwing them aside he runs his hand up your thigh, his gloved fingers finally on your pussy again, and he starts rubbing firm, slow circles on your clit, “is this where it aches?”
“Mhm,” you whimper, starting to squirm under his touch. Jack can’t help but groan at the sight in front of him: you with your legs spread, tits heaving up and down as you try to control your breathing, little whines slipping past your lips. He wants to make you come just like this. He drags his middle and ring finger through your center, collecting some of your wetness to spread on your clit, and you shiver above him, making a pathetic moaning sound.
“Tell me how this feels,” he rasps, his eyes fixed on your pussy. Your poor, little clit getting puffy and flushed as his fingers move in firm and intentional circles.
“So good, Dr. Abbot,” you say, pushing your head deeper into the comforter, gripping the soft bedspread in your fists as you twitch and squeak beneath your husband. Jack is relentless, rubbing on clit, keeping his eyes on your perfect little hole, obsessed with the way you try and squeeze down on what’s not there. His blue rubber gloves against your slick shine is making his cock twitch in his scrubs. You feel the hot coil tightening inside your pelvis as you whine and moan. He doesn’t even need his fingers inside you to know you're close. He has your body memorized.
“Come on,” he murmurs, “let go for me,”
“Fuck- I-” you gasp as your orgasm takes over you, warmth spreading through your body, blossoming from your core. You wriggle as Jack continues to rub on your clit as you try and come down, but you’re so sensitive from weeks of missing his touch he has to clamp down on your thighs to keep you from shaking too much. Usually he’d throw an arm over your stomach but even now, in the throes of passion, Jack still wants to be gentle, careful not to press against your scars. He watches a little dribble of cream drip down from your hole, swiping it up on his glove.
“You’re ok,” he murmurs, as your breathing starts to slow, “you did so good for me,”
“Thank you, Dr. Abbot,” you say, your voice slightly shaky.
“I gotta do an internal exam now,” he says, tilting his head to the side, biting back a smile at the way you look at him, wide-eyed and gulping down air.
“Ok,” you say so sweetly that his heart tugs. His good girl.
“Take a deep breath for me,” he says, running his middle finger slowly over your pussy. You inhale sharply, your chest, rising and then falling slowly. He slides his middle finger in with deliberate slowness and you let out a little, whimpery, moan. He fucks you on his finger slowly, his knuckle curling up inside you at an aching pace.
You rut your hips up against him, pushing back on his hand, silently begging him for more. He obliges, slipping another finger inside you, a wet, squelching sound filling the room, mixed with your adorable, sexy squeaking sounds. He curls his fingers, stroking your walls with loving pressure.
Jack keeps fucking you on his hand like this with a steady and unhurried rhythm, drinking in the sight of you. You feel another orgasm deep in your pelvis, spreading like waves, starting to move your hips against his hand. He smirks to himself at your desperate moans, feeling your tight entrance pulse around him. He presses the heel of his palm firmly against your clit, moving his hand in a slow up and down motion, every stroke stimulating both inside and outside your pussy.
“Doctor- mhn- Doctor Abbot,” you whimper, “I’m gonna- I’m-”
You can’t even finish your sentence, the dual sensation of his palm against your clit and his fingers plunging into your dripping pussy overwhelms you in the most perfect way. He feels you flutter and twitch around his fingers, your hips stuttering, he keeps fucking you on his hand with aching devotion, the little creamy ring at the based of his gloved fingers making his chest feel warm in the best way. Watching you fall apart is his favorite thing… his second favorite thing…
Jack pushes himself off the bed standing and turning to face you as you come down from coming on his thick fingers. Slowly, he moves his hand to the waistband of his scrubs, untying his pants, “now we gotta check your gag reflex,”
You sit up, heat swelling in your chest, eyes fixed on his crotch, desperate to get your mouth on him.
“Get on your knees,” he says. You slide off the bed and sink to the ground, looking up at him with eagerness. He pushes his scrubs and boxers down to the tops of his thighs, his pink cock bouncing up against his stomach. You lick your lips and instinctively reach for him but he clicks his tongue, tutting you.
“No touching the doctor's tools,” he says, gripping the base of his cock, giving himself a few strokes with his gloved hand, the cum that you left on his gloves acting as lube.“Say ‘ah’,” he says, a small smirk on his face.
“Ahh,” you repeat, sticking your tongue out, your big eyes shining up at him as he rests the tip of his cock on your tongue. The sound you make gets cut off by a choking gag as he presses himself to the back of your throat. You squeeze your hands between your thighs, desperate to touch him, desperate for him to keep touching you.
“Good girl,” he groans, “taking your doctor’s cock so good,”
Jack pulls back and start to fuck your mouth slowly, god, you missed having his cock down your throat. Spit spills down your neck as you look up at him, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with lust and fixed on you. You slide your tongue along the underside of his shaft as he fucks in and out of your throat, wet, choking sounds filling the room. You hum around his hard cock, loving how he fills your mouth, making your lips puffy and shiny with spit. He pulls out of your mouth abruptly making you let out a strangled moan.
“Ooh,” he coos, almost mocking you, as you try to catch your breath, “are you gonna thank me for checking how good I can make you gag?” tugging on his slick cock, the angry red tip contrasting against the soft blue of his gloves.
“Thank you for fucking my mouth, Dr. Abbot,” you say, still heaving for air but wild for more. Before you can take him in your mouth again he reaches down and grabs you by the neck, pulling you to your feet. You let out an almost frustrated, huffy little whine, and he raises an eyebrow in a patronizing manner.
“What’s the matter?” He smirks, running a gloved thumb over your lips.
“Nothing- I-” you twist your fingers together, looking at him through your lashes, “I just like having your cock in my mouth.”
“Yeah?” He smirks, snapping off his gloves, throwing them to the floor.
“Yeah,” you say shyly, watching the blue plastic fall to the ground. As much as you loved that he used the gloves, as turned on as it had made you, seeing your creamy wetness smeared on the blue plastic, you’re eager for his rough palms on your skin.
“You got a little oral fixation?” He says, tone dripping in condescension.
“I guess so, Dr. Abbot,” you blink innocently at him.
“Yeah, I got something to help with that,” he says, voice deep and dreamy. You start to furrow your eyebrows in confusion but he grabs your waist and pushes you back onto the bed. You land with a soft bounce, catching yourself on your elbows.
He reaches into his pocket pulling out a cherry blow pop that you recognize from the Pitts secret break room stash. He rips off the wrapper before tapping the red candy to your lips, just like he’d done with his cock so many times before.
“Open,” he says, voice rough. You part your lips as he pushes the lollipop into your mouth, cooing at the sight of you like this. You take the stick between your fingers, twirling the sucker in your mouth as Jack perches on the edge of the bed with his back towards you, snapping his prosthetic off and shoving down his pants and boxers. You let out a little sigh as he turns and crawls towards you, settling between your legs. He hooks your thighs around his hips as you look up at him through your lashes. His eyes look almost black as he gazes down at you, his hands running up the nylon on your legs, squeezing your thigh where the thigh-high stockings end.
“You’ve been such a good girl,” he rasps, fisting his cock.
“Thank you Dr. Abbot,” you say after pulling the cherry candy from your mouth with a pop.
“Good girls get rewarded,” Jack says, voice radiating lust.
“Yeah?” You say, batting your lashes at him, sucking on red sweet shifting your hips so the tip of his cock grazes the entrance of your pussy.
“Yeah,” he groans, pulling the lollipop from your lips, leaving you with your mouth slightly parted in surprise. Jack sucks the cherry sweet into his mouth, tucking it into his cheek. It should not be as hot as it is. He notches his cock into your pussy, “ready, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you whine, desperate for him to be inside you. He smirks down at you, slowly pushing into you, stretching you out with aching passion, making you squeeze your eyes shut. He tuts, stopping his hips, not fully inside you leaving you squirming for more.
“Eyes on me,” he says roughly, pinching your nipple so you look up at him. You force your eyes open, looking up at him, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “good girl,” he says, pulling the cherry candy from his mouth. You stick out your tongue ready to accept your reward for behaving.
As you close your lips over the sticky sweetness Jack pushes into you fully, making you moan around the red sucker in your mouth.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groans, watching you with devotion as he grips down on your hips. He swallows hard, the way you’re squeezing his cock sending a shiver up his spine. Slowly he pulls his hips back before pushing back into you at a tantalizing pace, making you feel so full your toes curl.
Fuck, he missed your pussy so bad. The way your slick insides flutter around his cock, the way you desperately shift beneath him, the way your tits bounce as he thrusts into you over and over. He already feels the deep warmth building in his pelvis, entirely consumed by you. He trails his hands up your body, taking your nipples between his fingers, rolling and flicking and mercilessly teasing them.
“Dr. Abbot,” you moan, “you fuck me so good.”
Jack’s heart and dick twitch at your praise. He’s not gonna last long, overwhelmed by the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over, a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock. His gaze fixes on your greedy hole, watching you suck and squeeze him as he fucks in and out of you. And you just feel so good, squeezing his cock he just can’t keep up the doctor act anymore.
“Fuck baby,” Jack groans, tucking his face into yout neck, fucking in and out of you, “I love you,”
“I love you,” you whimper. Jack smiles into your throat before pushing himself up on his elbows.
“Say it again, pretty girl,” he says, watching your face flushed with pleasure. As much as he loves this little role play, what he loves the best is being intimate with his wife. With you.
“Jack,” you moan, threading your fingers into his curls, “I love you,”
“I love you, baby,” he says, before letting out a guttural groan, “I’m gonna come- I;m gonna fill your pretty pussy with my cum,”
“Please- I- Jack- I want it-” you whimper, struggling to get your words out as your third orgasm comes to a crescendo in your core, “fill me-”
Jack moans your name, cupping your cheek and connecting your lips in a sweet but desperate kiss. Your cherry lips are like heaven. The two of you swallow the other's sounds, pressing your bodies together, trying to be closer than you already are. Jack keeps fucking in and out of you as you both shake through orgasms, the sounds of you wet, slapping sex filling the room. His hips gradually slow and he pulls back, breaking your kiss so you can both breathe a proper breath.
Jack carefully pushes your hair behind your ear with so much love and tenderness it makes you shiver. You feel the mix of your cum and his dripping down your ass as his cock softens inside of you. He shifts his hips back slightly, falling out of you, as you both pant.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathes, shifting his hip to the side of you, his broad body looming halfway over yours, sticking together with a shimmer of sweat. He caresses your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as you bite back a smile, blushing up at him, “I love you,” he rasps, tucking his face into your neck, “so fuckin’ much,”
“I love you too,” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his tousled curls. A soft moment of silence passes over you before you speak again, “I- thank you for doing that with me,”
“What do you mean?” Jack pulls his head back so he’s looking at you, a small crease between his brows.
“I just-” you give a little shrug, looking away shyly, “I didn’t know if you’d think that was silly,”
“Hey,” Jack says, taking your jaw in his hand, making you look up at him again,“if there’s something you want to try… that would never be silly to me. Ok?”
“Ok,” you nod, gazing into his eyes. He sees a little twinkle that lets him know that you hear him. And that you love him. He gives you a soft, sweet kiss on the lips.
“Next time,” Jack says, dropping his mouth to your throat, pepper little kisses down your neck, “you're gonna be the doctor.”
Medplay roleplay where you’re the doctor and I’m the patient and you “examine” my body and pussy.. wearing the latex gloves while you keep telling me that this is purely procedure and to relax when examining my pussy and grabbing my tits.. “I’m just gonna apply some.. pressure right here.. relax for me..” “Shh shh.. relax.. just relax.. you’re doing really well.. I just have to put my hands and fingers here to make sure there’s nothing.. you know.. out of the ordinary or if something’s wrong.. okay? Your skin and body is really soft.. fuck..” “Oh.. it looks like I don’t need to use any lubricant to inspect down here.. is somebody getting turned on from their inspection? You know how naughty that is, sweetheart..? I’m just gonna insert two fingers inside of you.. again this is purely procedure.. just relax and breathe. I’m gonna have to feel all around your vaginal canal just to see if there’s anything wrong. Just need to see if you’ll react when I rub your g-spot.. oohh.. yes definitely got you to react.. hmm.. I’m gonna continue to just lightly massage it.. how does that feel? Good? I think I’m gonna need to use a different type of instrument to really fully inspect inside of you..”
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𝜗𝜚 most normal patients don’t get turned on from their hot doctor’s latex gloves, right?
cw: medplay (sorta)
more like this
“So, you say you’ve been having some troubles with your back, correct?” Your doctor, Kento Nanami (according to his pristine name tag and the sign slotted onto the door), swivels around in his chair to face you instead of your medical profile. You nod and sigh.
“Yeah, it’s mainly the lower half,” you say, wincing a little when you straighten up. “It hurts when I try and lie down or sit up too quickly.”
Nanami nods carefully. “Does this sort of ache-“
“It’s more like a paralysis.” You interrupt him, before blushing in embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.” He smiles kindly and you take it as a sign to continue. “It’s just- it feels like all the muscles kind of… seize up, I guess?”
“Do you get that feeling anywhere else?” He question, the clacking of his keyboard background noise to his comfortingly low voice. “Hips, neck, shoulders?”
“My hips, and my shoulders. Oh, sometimes my neck if I move it too quickly. So I guess all of the above?” You say sheepishly, avoiding his eyes for prolonged periods of time.
Nanami asks you the rest of your symptoms, concern floating a little across his face. It isn’t fake or false or even distinctly professional, he genuinely looks like he wants to help- it makes you feel slightly warm under his gaze, as he stares at you so intently like you’re the only thing worth listening to.
And since when were doctors so... attractive? Blonde hair sits perfectly above his glasses, eyes boring into yours, large hands typing something down into your file. Nanami sits in his chair with his legs spread a little, the whiteness of his coat a cool contrast to the blue of his scrubs, and you mentally slap yourself for craning your neck to get a better look at his forearms.
“Okay.” Nanami hums eventually, brows slightly furrowed as he leans forward to listen to you. “Well, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to conduct an examination of your spine and general bare torso, just to see how your body reacts to certain pressures. Is that alright?”
You snap back to reality and immediately nod. “Yes, I’d be fine with that. Do you need me to take my bra off?”
“Just unclasp it then hold it at the front, please.” He says coolly, “I’ll go and prepare- that is, wash and sanitise my hands, etcetera- if you could just stand facing that wall,” he notes coolly, gesturing vaguely at the poster board, “that would be just perfect.”
The door clicks as he leaves, and you suddenly feel rather nervous. The soft fabric of your sweater slips off and you neatly pile it onto your chair, before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra; with a quiet click! it slips down until you’re holding the cups in place just a little awkwardly. You try to ignore the way you're wondering if your doctor knows how to take off a bra, and busy yourself with the notices in front of your face.
The poster board in front of you has everything you’d expect to find in a doctor’s office. Information and helplines for quitting smoking, a few cartoon drawings of fruit informing you to eat healthy, all smushed in between the various other flyers. Just as you’re getting around to scrutinise the text on a poster about heart rate, there’s a knock.
“Can I come in?”
You startle just a little, readjust your hold on your bra while facing the wall, and nod before remembering he can’t see you. “Yes!” The noise of his shoes softly clicking onto the floor makes you shiver in anticipation, his speech drifting from somewhere unidentifiable. Like this, all your senses are heightened, and its making you nervous.
“So,” Nanami says from behind you, “for hygiene reasons, I’m going to be wearing a pair of gloves. Are you allergic to latex, at all?”
“No.” You shake your head again, ears perking up at the faint rustling of crisp plastic behind you when he opens the packet of gloves.
Silence passes for a few moments, broken occasionally by the snapping of latex against Nanami’s large hands as he works the gloves on and smooths them down. At least, you assume that’s what he’s doing, because you can’t see him.
The plastic makes a soft, almost creamy noise when he pulls them taut to his wrists, sliding them down across each individual finger. Something in you hums a little, an unbidden spark of warmth low in your belly you register with something akin to horror. Surely you’re not… into this, right?
“Can I touch you?” He says gently, “I’ll need to move your hair.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” You say, voice as calm as possible when his gloves fingers brush your hair from your nape and across your shoulders.
“I’ll just be touching your spine and general torso area. Let me know if you need anything.” Nanami hums, before pressing his fingers to your skin.
You almost twitch. The latex skims across your flesh, crinkling as Nanami thumbs at your vertebrae. It feels too intimate, even with the barrier.
“Does that hurt?” He breathes, fingers splayed across your shoulder blade. “You’re tense here.”
“No, I- it’s not. Sorry, I’m just not used to the… pressure, I guess.”
You can hear Nanami’s smile in his voice, “that’s perfectly fine, most patients react the same way." Yeah, I bet, you think, warmth pooling uncomfortably well in your abdomen. "I’ll move back to your spine now.”
As he does so, pressing firmly down on your skin, the feeling of the gloves is satisfying in a way that makes heat gather in your cheeks and, unfortunately, between your thighs. You feel so exposed, panties no doubt clinging to you below the jeans you tugged on for this appointment.
It’s all so medical, so clinical as he touches you. Fingerpads pressing methodically against your spine, occasionally reaching up to thumb over your nape; but when he gets to your lower back, your breath picks up.
You pray he doesn’t notice the flush. His hands roll over the dimple in your back where your spine curves down to the very tail end, but thankfully he doesn’t dip further than your waistband. "Does this hurt? Any pain?" Nanami says, thumb pressing down onto your skin. You almost squeal when he splays his palm out across your lower back, mind conjuring up images of him using the same positioning to arch your back further beneath him.
It should be disconnect you feel from this, not an urge to slither your hand between your legs and touch yourself as softly as he’s holding your back. You find yourself imagining how his hands would feel holding onto your hips as he ruts into you from behind, how they’d feel wrapped around your bare thighs.
Strangely, in these scenarios, the gloves remain on.
“You didn’t point me to any pain at most of my touch.” Nanami says, suddenly snapping you out of it, painfully reminding you that the exam was entirely medical. “Which leads me to believe you simply need to decompress- I’ll write you down a few recommendations.”
As he speaks, you hear the way he peels off the gloves and drops them into the medical waste bin. Your chest pangs at the loss. “I’ll allow you to get dressed quickly, and I’ll be back.”
As you pull your sweater back over your head and fumble with the clasp of your bra, your hands quiver. “Fuck.” You mutter to yourself; seriously, what was that? Since when were you into doctors- and the gloves they’re wearing?
Maybe it’s just him, you try and convince yourself- wouldn’t most people get turned on by a hot guy touching their bare skin? But then again, the gloves felt so good. The way they skimmed across your spine, the way you imagined his gloved hand dipping below your waistband. You’re soaked; and, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.
When Nanami enters again, you’re already perched politely on the chair from before as he smiles and settles in front of his computer. “Now, then.” He says kindly. He’s smiling at you totally professionally, the way he probably does for every single other patient, and yet your thighs clamp together.
“I did say I’d offer you a few solutions. I don’t believe you need specially prescribed medication, so just stick to painkillers for now. As for homemade remedies…” he adds, sliding a piece of paper across the desk.
His handwriting is neat and loopy, the letters conjoined but still legible. “Oh, thank you!” You say, already skimming the list. “I’ll do these. Thank you so much, doctor Nanami!”
“You can call me Kento.” He smiles, standing from his desk to approach the sink in the corner and apply hand sanitiser. “Now, call in for another appointment if it starts to hurt again.”
You nod, thank him again, and hurry out of the door. At the top of Nanami’s neat list is written “take relaxing, hot baths.” And who are you to refuse the doctor’s orders?
That evening, after a glass of wine and a casual binge of your new series, you drag yourself off to the bath you’ve been gently running. It’s bubbly enough now to the point you can’t see the water, and they hug against your regularly aching back.
As your hands lie on your stomach beneath the surface, they start to drift between your thighs and your breath hitches a little. Usually, your mind drifts to various situations with various faceless people until your orgasm crests. But this time, you have a very specific scenario in mind.
“Very good.” Nanami breathes into your ear, slowly sliding out of you as you smear slick along his cock. “Doing so well, hm?”
“Oh, Kento.” You moan out in the fantasy- and in real life, a little muffled and breathy. “So good.”
His hands are firmly planted on your waist as he gently rocks into you with all the care he showed during your appointment. He’s still wearing his gloves, crinkling across your messiness and gently tugging your mouth open for your doctor to gently slide his tongue inside.
The latex bunches over your skin, shiny with your sweat when he readjusts himself to knock into your g spot even harder to hear you keen. In the bath, water sloshes at the sides of the bathtub as your fingers flick across your clit and you gasp.
But in your fantasy, it’s Nanami’s fingers. More specifically, his gloved thumb comes down to circle your budding clit and the ridges on the latex make you whimper; the material shimmers with your overwhelming amounts of wetness, and Nanami groans to himself.
“Look at this.” Fantasy Nanami says lowly, a lilt of laughter to his voice. “So messy, hm? Ruining my gloves like that. And here I thought you were my favourite patient.”
You sulk as best you can with your lips constantly being forced open around moans. In the bathtub, bubbles collect atop the thin lacquer of sweat on your skin.
“Oh fuck, please-“ you breathe to yourself, fingers working your cunt as you imagine they’re gloved in latex and belong to your blonde doctor. “Please please please-“
When you cum, your body seizes up and you gasp silently, before everything goes limp and you’re floating dreamily in the bath’s foamy embrace. But that familiar ache in your back has returned again- maybe you need to book another appointment.
Every single week I’m back in that freezing cold doctor’s office, shivering as he locks the door behind me with a calm click. “Strip. Everything off,” he orders without even looking up from his chart. The room is always ice-cold, my nipples hardening instantly the second the air hits my skin. I fold my clothes neatly on the chair like he expects, then stand there naked and exposed while he circles me slowly.
He starts with my breasts. Rough, gloved hands grope and squeeze them, lifting and pressing, pinching my sensitive nipples until I whimper. “Still too sensitive here,” he mutters clinically, twisting one harder just to watch me squirm. He comments on my weight, my posture, how soft my belly is, slapping my abdomen lightly to watch it jiggle. Every little flaw is noted out loud in that detached, professional tone that makes me feel like a piece of meat being examined.
Then comes the worst part.
He guides me onto the table, forces my legs up into the cold metal stirrups, spreading me obscenely wide. Thick leather restraints buckle tightly around my wrists and thighs, pinning me completely. I can’t close my legs. I can’t even shift away. I’m completely helpless, cunt on full display under the harsh lights.
The doctor sits between my spread legs and begins the pelvic exam. His gloved fingers probe roughly around my entrance, spreading my lips apart without any gentleness. He slides two thick fingers deep inside me, scissoring and stretching me open while he measures and inspects. The speculum comes next — ice-cold metal that he forces into my tight hole without warming it. He cranks it open wide, stretching my walls painfully as he shines a light inside me, commenting on how wet I’m already getting.
“Patient is exhibiting clear signs of arousal again,” he says flatly, like I’m not even there.
His fingers find my swollen clit and start rubbing — firm, clinical, merciless circles. No matter how much I struggle against the restraints or beg him to stop, he doesn’t. He just keeps rubbing faster, occasionally slapping my exposed cunt when I squirm too much. The wet, filthy sounds of his gloved fingers pumping in and out of my dripping pussy echo in the quiet room. He adds a third finger, stretching me brutally while his thumb grinds hard on my clit until my thighs are shaking uncontrollably.
I fight it. I really do. But I always end up cumming hard around his fingers like a pathetic, restrained little slut — walls clenching and gushing all over his hand while he watches with cold professional interest.
By the time he’s done, I’m a dripping, trembling mess. He finally removes the speculum and restraints, hands me a single thin wipe like it’s nothing, and says, “Clean yourself up. Same time next week.”
I know I should stop going. But I’ll be back. Naked. Shivering. Restrained. Until he finally says I’m “cured”… even though we both know I never will be.
