Patient-Doctor Relationship

I was rummaging through my closet for my medical bag. I needed to find my stethoscope and listen to Luke’s bowel sounds and vital signs fast just to ease my hypochondriac self-projection. Which at that time was already imagining gastric perforation or internal hemorrhage. Luke, on the other hand, was sitting calmly on the couch shirtless with an ice pack in his abdomen’s left upper quadrant.

“You don’t really have to. I’m fine, Samantha,” I heard him say again for the umpteenth time. I looked over my shoulder to see how he’s doing. Again. His face looked like an awkward morph of amusement and pain.

“You’re just saying that,” I responded. For the umpteenth time, too. I found the blasted steth at last and walked over to Luke in a heartbeat. “Here, let me see.”

I checked his heart rate first, then his pulse rate, his breathing, and then his bowel sounds. I even threw in a temperature check just to be sure. He was right. He was fine.

“You’re clear, I think,” I told him, hanging the steth around my neck before checking on the state of his LUQ. It was already starting to bruise.

“I told you so,” he muttered smiling at me. “You look good, doctor,” he said after a while. He touched the steth, craftily caressing my nape, my throat, and my collarbone along with it.

“Shut up.” I could tell I was blushing, and he was enjoying every minute of it, it seemed.

“You do,” he murmured, looking straight into my eyes. His fingers lingered on my collarbone, tracing one side to the other and then back.

“Does it hurt when you breathe?” I asked, trying to clear my mind. His bruise did look like I hit part of his lower ribcage too. Again, my hypochondriac self was imagining rib fractures or something.

“A bit.” His voice was low, barely louder than a whisper.

“Does it hurt even when you don’t move?” I don’t even know now why I was still asking questions. My rational self already knew he was fine.

“No.” He was inching towards me now, and I followed suit. His eyes looked playful, but I watched his mischievous expression instantly turn into a wince halfway into moving towards me.

“But it hurts when you do, doesn’t it?” I asked worriedly, snapping back to reality with that pained expression on his face. I felt really bad about my being clumsy.

“Y-Yeah.” He sighed, repositioning his back on the couch. “Remind me never to attack you to the point of injuring myself again.” He attempted at a laugh but only managed a pained scoff.

I smiled at him and decided I’d bridge the distance myself. It was a bit tricky, trying to situate myself where I’d be comfortable and he’d be pain-free. I was certain the position was awkward if somebody else looked in, but who cared? I certainly didn’t care about anything. Luke didn’t care either. He was kissing me hungrily and I only wanted more.

I sat on his lap carefully, never breaking contact while also making sure I never jostled the ice pack too much. His hands immediately went to my nape, bringing me closer to him as if I still needed to.

I was breathing hard in between kissing him, and I could hear him panting, too. I could feel him grow hard beneath me which only made me want him more. Something about me being careful not to bump into his injury and him wanting to be more aggressive was just so arousing.

I started grinding slowly astride him, channeling a teasing vibe and hoping it worked. It did. He grabbed me by my waist, urging me to go harder as he kissed and licked my throat.

He winced again after a while, and I had to stop. “Are you okay?” I had to ask. I was not a selfish bitch. Even though I very much wanted to be at that very moment.

“I’m fine. Just… don’t stop,” he said, looking at me intently before kissing my throat again.

I was so sure I wasn’t just about to stop worrying about him, but his lips began to move south as he unhooked the bra beneath my shirt, and his hands started working their magic. My mind was a blur.

“Take this off,” he whispered hurriedly as he brought his lips to my ear, tugging at the fly of my pants. I never noticed he had had it unzipped already. I stood in front of him and obliged, taking my shirt off too and leaving my panties on.

He sat up straight and took off his own pants, hiding a wince that was so noticeable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I had to ask again.

“Are you sure we’re not teens and you’re the boy in this situation?” he smiled jokingly as he copied my intonation. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. Come here.” He pulled on my hand and sat me astride him once again. This time his arousal was ever so palpable.

He pulled me up, sucking on my breasts when they reached his eye level as he took off his boxers. His other hand slipped between my legs, pushing my panties to one side. I shuddered. Then he pulled me back to him as he began easing into me, oh so deliciously slowly, his hands pressed tightly on my waist.

He guided the pace the entire time, and I let him. Until we were both gasping for breath. I curled up beside him after, and he put his arm around me.

“Let’s get to bed, hm?” he whispered as I dwindled in between consciousness. I merely nodded my agreement.