Playing Doctor
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
11,817
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
11,817
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Playing Doctor
Title: Playing Doctor
Fandom: Original
Characters: Luka and Edaniel Forrest
Prompt: Medical Play
Word Count: 2,296
Rating: NC17
Author's Notes: Needs to be edited a little more, yeah >.> I'll do that... also, yes, not a lot of backstory given here... I do wanna write a proper story on these two at some point, just at the moment, I'm just having some fun with them ;3 So, if you wanna read some kinky smut, then read on! XD The characters are owned by myself and my friend, so there :)
Also, just because this is a oneshot, please don't just read it and scamper off, I ADORE feedback and it makes me want to write more, so PLEASE leave a comment and tell me what you think ^_^
It’s times like this I feel so much younger then I am. Granted, no one my age or younger would wipe out on a motorcycle. Technically, I’m not old enough to drive… but not being allowed, tends to grab my attention more than anything.
I never used to think of myself that way.
The antiseptic bites down my nerves and I hiss, recoil, shut my eyes. My leg throbs and I resist the persistent impulse to pull back.
“Almost done…” My fingers relax, release their strangle hold on the bathroom counter, and my eyes crack open cautiously. Bloody cotton swabs litter the immaculate bathroom floor; the air smells too much like copper and alcohol. I sneeze and my ribs ache, a sharp needle pain crawling down my nerves. Frustrated tears blister in the corners of my eyes.
“Almost done…” you lull once more, voice soothing and gentle.
“K-Kay…” your fingers drag soaking cotton swabs down the gash on my leg, the alcohol dripping down the wound like fire trickling tenderly down my skin. I bite my lip, toes curling as a tiny whimper slips past my lips.
“H-hurts…”
“I know… I’m just… glad you’re okay,” my head snaps up, shaking the tattered crimson bangs from my line of view. I see you through the smudgy glass sheen of my glasses, smiling up at me with your sunny ivy eyes. You look so frightened.
“I’m sorry,” the words rush out of me before I even have to think. “I should have… been more careful.”
“Yes, you should have,” it always, always surprises me when you use that voice. The stern affection tinted tone that reminds me that you’re my father.
“… s-sorry,” I apologize again, sheepish, tilting my head down. My bangs tumble over my eyes and the clean artificial bathroom lights make mirrors out my glasses, hiding my eyes.
“Like I said, I’m just happy you’re okay,” you smile and the tension evaporates, and a light fluttering grin touches my lips. I always feel lighter when you smile.
“Kay.”
Pale hands unwind a role of white linen bandage; wrap it tenderly around my leg. I sigh, clench and unclench my bruised fingers, feeling the sweet relief as the prickling of the antiseptic begins to calm.
“… I feel so stupid,” I confess, glancing down to meet your eyes.
“Don’t, you still don’t really know what you’re doing… besides,” your eyes dart back and forth, a ridiculous contagious smile on your lips. “Secretly, my first wipe out was much worse.”
“Really? What happened to you?”
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing I have that whole immortality thing going…” you grin softly, twin razor teeth behind your lips. My cheeks heat up.
“Still, I expect you to be more careful from now on.”
“Yes Dad,” absently I watch the burnished florescent light slide down the metal feathers that dangle from your ears, from the wrist of your fingerless leather gloves. Soon the bandages are all stitched up and I can carefully flex my toes, only dull pain throbbing down my calf. “Thank you…”
“Not done yet, turn around.”
I do, and I can see you behind me in the steam-kissed mirror, pale skin and jade eyes and silver spider thread through your raven hair.
“What?”
“How come I didn’t get any of your looks?”
A laugh vibrates through your chest, your fingers tickling playfully at the back of my ribs as you peel off my tattered shirt. A short laugh cuts from my lips and I resist the urge to squirm back, to sore to bother fending you off.
“You’re beautiful, you don’t need my looks.”
Smiling from that, it’s less painful to feel your fingers probe my ribs, finding the shallow dips here and there, pressing the bruises.
“Nothing seems broken…” you muse out loud, eyes half shut in concentration as you chew the piercing through your bottom lip. “Lucky, from a crash like that…”
“Guess so,” Oh, it hurts, I almost ask you to stop… but I know you know what’s best.
My face suddenly feels sun-burnt.
“You’re blushing m’boy…” you tease, thumbs testing the gentle tip of my spine, pressing, following the curve. I can’t look away from your –from our- reflection in the mirror, your sharp toothed grin hovering my shoulder.
My heart flutters; I know you can hear it. Damn it, damn it, damn it…
“You look like a doctor in that coat,” I muse, awkwardly, a crooked sort of smile on my lips. “You never wear white.”
“Yeah, but this one was on sale, and it came with a free pair of pants.”
“…”
“What?”
“…. You are so gay.”
“Hey!” You look indignant, you’re eyes widening and I almost, almost laugh at you.
Then you grin.
And I know I’m in trouble.
“Is that any way to speak too your doctor?”
“… huh?” My stomach jumps and I watch my eyes widen in the mirror, watch your hands slither around my ribs to my front.
You look so pleased with yourself, with how easy you play me.
(More, more.)
“Come on now, I take care of you, I make you well, don’t you think you should respect me a little more then that?” Your chin rests on my shoulder, breath ghosting down my neck. The blush on my chest makes your hands glow like marble.
“M-maybe.”
Pale hands seep down my arms, catch my palms and turn them up, laying the backs of my bruised knuckles over one of your cool waiting hands.
“Tsk, Tsk….” The soft purr on my hair makes me shudder, “Look at this… all bruised and scratched…” fingertips of your free hand touch lightly to the wounds on my wrists, up my forearms, left from the bite of gravel and pavement. “These should be cleaned.”
Its like hypnosis, I can’t look away, can’t even blink as you drag the amber wet cotton swab across my wrists. I twitch, but the fingers coiled lightly through my own stop me from moving. My knees shake, aching against the smooth hard countertop. And you keep smiling, fangs glinting as bright as your eyes, your smile so so sweet I can hardly stand it.
I moan, soft, helpless, my back shaking against your chest.
“Now we should wrap them up…” And you’re winding the fine gossamer linen around both my wrists, biding them together.
“D-dad-”
“Shhh, I know what I’m doing…” your eyes in the glass look feline, and you’re grinning, daring me.
“… y-yes doctor.”
The binds slowly become tighter, until I can hardly feel my fingers, and you lift my arms above my head, biding them with the linen to the light fixture above the mirror. My heart thrashes against my ribs, blood dashing to fast through my veins. My insides feel burnt.
“I-is this really necessary, Doctor Forrest?” I play along, because I love playing with you, no matter what we’re playing. A smile tugs my lips but as I watch myself and you in the mirror, I make myself look unsure; frightened. You know I’m not… but it just makes things more fun.
“Of course…” My jean shorts slide down my legs, the fabric rough against the array of little nicks and starches stamped over the backs of my thighs. The fabric hangs in tatters around my knees as your hands drift like a cool breeze up the sides of my legs. My head falls back and I moan, tugging gently against the linen bindings.
“Ah! Oow!” the cry spills out of me as I feel the sharp bite of the antiseptic, falling in heavy cold drops down my skin, catching on my torn skin. “F-fuck…”
“Now, now, you know this is necessary… wouldn’t want you to get a nasty infection and ruin all your beautiful skin…” Mercifully you dab cotton over my skin, soaking up the clinging drops of orange-amber fluid, and tossing the swab to the floor with the others. The whole floor looks as if covered in bloody snow fall.
I shiver and wonder why you’re not kissing them better, a childish need making my chest tight. I open my mouth to ask, to plead if that’s what you want, but I’m cut off.
“Edaniel…” my stomach twists every time you use my full name, “Look…” My eyes crack open (I didn’t realize I had shut them) and peer foggily and the mirror before us.
My skin is pink and sore looking, dotted with dark bruises and the occasional scrape of scratch. The bandages dangle around my arms, swaying every time I twitch, landing in loose folds on my head.
My lips part with a gasp as your warm chest is pressed to my back, and I feel it’s bare under your new crisp white coat. One hand pushes my glasses up my nose, so I can see the other had so perfectly, as it slides down the glass. I follow your fingertips with my eyes, and –oh-… I see what you’re looking at; I see why you’re grinning against my ear.
The tip of my cock is straining through the waistband of my briefs, dripping heavy drops of white onto the fabric, and it’s clinging to my skin. Your fingers linger on the reflection, steam seeping onto the cool glass.
I can’t breathe; I just can’t breathe when you look at me like that.
“Please, please…” I’m begging before I can help it, starring at this shaking, flushed, stringy haired wide eyed little creature you turn me into, starring into your predator-ivy eyes, starring as your tongue as it traces the shell of my ear.
“These look quite uncomfortable,” you’re still pretending to be professional; at least your voice is, as your thumbs dip under the elastic of my briefs.
“Y-yes…”
“Should I take them off for you…?”
“Y-Y-yes…”
You’re waiting… oh, that’s why.
“Yes, doctor Forrest,” my voice shakes lose in a trembling little squeak. Sometimes I can’t believe the things you make me say.
The fabric slides down to my knees and you hand is wrapped around me stroking, oh, faster and faster…
“What a good little patient…” you purr and you know, you know that’s my weakness. I love when you exploit it, when you push me as far as I’ll go. I bite my lip and want to look away from the reflection, but I cant, I can’t take my eyes off your hand and how fast it’s moving up and down my cock.
Cries spill from my mouth as my hips buck. Your hand speeds up, you’re watching my eyes and how they swell and how the green in them lights as you push me, closer, closer, closer…
Your free hand curls around my front, catches a nipple and pinches, while a candied smile hangs on your lips. Your chin rests on my shoulder and your hair kisses my cheek; so soft against too warm skin. I’m gasping but I’m not getting any air.
A silky moan pours past your pale lips, and I want to kiss you, pulling impulsively against the bindings.
“I want to taste you, but you’d taste like antiseptic…” all I can do is cry out, half scared, I don’t know what you want me to say. “I was careful to cover all of you.” But seeing your eyes I know you’re planning something…
Lips brush the very base of my spine, the dip in just before my skin splits and…
..Oh... fuck…
Something warm and wet dips inside me, traces slowly, leisurely, around something inside me that’s clenched. I shriek, breathy, watching my mouth stretch in the mirror.
How do you do this to me?
Then it’s pressing, just pushing and opening me up. I can’t see your eyes, but I know they’re open, starring around the frail curve of my hip at the mirror. I can’t see it anymore, can’t see anything. Not with your tongue inside me there, not with your hand pulling that much harder.
When I see again, there’s white dripping down the mirror, and the boy in the mirror is shaking hard, his cock wet and limp between his legs. He looks pathetic.
“You’re beautiful…” your voice is normal… you’re done playing, and you’re making me blush hot and believe you.
“L-love you…” I whine, cracking open my eyes and turning my head, starving for a kiss.
“I love you too…” The medical scissors flash silver before you cut me down, and I crumple into your arms. “My beautiful Edaniel…”
“Are you taking me to bed now?” my vision isn’t clear yet, all I see if your face cut out against the dim blurry lights of our apartment, the black and white photographs framed on the wall. Nothing is clear except your eyes. They look softer now, the color of a canopy of green under dull dreamy moonlight.
“You should rest, after something like that.”
“… You referring to the crash, or…?”
“What do you think?”
I don’t bother answering; only smiling and letting my eyes role. I sink against your chest until you put me down, clinging around your neck until you slip onto the bed next to me.
“… Stay till I fall asleep?” my voice sounds so far away from me, I must already be half way there…
“Until you wake up,” but I can still see your pale-warm smile, feel your lips as the softly brush against my forehead. “Hn, you feel warm, could you have a fever?”
“Nooo,” I groan; almost a yawn, “no more playing doctor…”
You chuckle, the sound vibrating through you chest. I press my cheek to it, the sound of your heart beat filling my head, my hands weaving gently through your hair.
“Alright… goodnight Eddy…”
“Night Dad…” Cradled against your chest, your heartbeat sings me to sleep.
There, how's that? Please leave a comment and let me know what you liked/dislikes/fav part/whatever you thought!! Thank you! ^_~
Fandom: Original
Characters: Luka and Edaniel Forrest
Prompt: Medical Play
Word Count: 2,296
Rating: NC17
Author's Notes: Needs to be edited a little more, yeah >.> I'll do that... also, yes, not a lot of backstory given here... I do wanna write a proper story on these two at some point, just at the moment, I'm just having some fun with them ;3 So, if you wanna read some kinky smut, then read on! XD The characters are owned by myself and my friend, so there :)
Also, just because this is a oneshot, please don't just read it and scamper off, I ADORE feedback and it makes me want to write more, so PLEASE leave a comment and tell me what you think ^_^
It’s times like this I feel so much younger then I am. Granted, no one my age or younger would wipe out on a motorcycle. Technically, I’m not old enough to drive… but not being allowed, tends to grab my attention more than anything.
I never used to think of myself that way.
The antiseptic bites down my nerves and I hiss, recoil, shut my eyes. My leg throbs and I resist the persistent impulse to pull back.
“Almost done…” My fingers relax, release their strangle hold on the bathroom counter, and my eyes crack open cautiously. Bloody cotton swabs litter the immaculate bathroom floor; the air smells too much like copper and alcohol. I sneeze and my ribs ache, a sharp needle pain crawling down my nerves. Frustrated tears blister in the corners of my eyes.
“Almost done…” you lull once more, voice soothing and gentle.
“K-Kay…” your fingers drag soaking cotton swabs down the gash on my leg, the alcohol dripping down the wound like fire trickling tenderly down my skin. I bite my lip, toes curling as a tiny whimper slips past my lips.
“H-hurts…”
“I know… I’m just… glad you’re okay,” my head snaps up, shaking the tattered crimson bangs from my line of view. I see you through the smudgy glass sheen of my glasses, smiling up at me with your sunny ivy eyes. You look so frightened.
“I’m sorry,” the words rush out of me before I even have to think. “I should have… been more careful.”
“Yes, you should have,” it always, always surprises me when you use that voice. The stern affection tinted tone that reminds me that you’re my father.
“… s-sorry,” I apologize again, sheepish, tilting my head down. My bangs tumble over my eyes and the clean artificial bathroom lights make mirrors out my glasses, hiding my eyes.
“Like I said, I’m just happy you’re okay,” you smile and the tension evaporates, and a light fluttering grin touches my lips. I always feel lighter when you smile.
“Kay.”
Pale hands unwind a role of white linen bandage; wrap it tenderly around my leg. I sigh, clench and unclench my bruised fingers, feeling the sweet relief as the prickling of the antiseptic begins to calm.
“… I feel so stupid,” I confess, glancing down to meet your eyes.
“Don’t, you still don’t really know what you’re doing… besides,” your eyes dart back and forth, a ridiculous contagious smile on your lips. “Secretly, my first wipe out was much worse.”
“Really? What happened to you?”
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing I have that whole immortality thing going…” you grin softly, twin razor teeth behind your lips. My cheeks heat up.
“Still, I expect you to be more careful from now on.”
“Yes Dad,” absently I watch the burnished florescent light slide down the metal feathers that dangle from your ears, from the wrist of your fingerless leather gloves. Soon the bandages are all stitched up and I can carefully flex my toes, only dull pain throbbing down my calf. “Thank you…”
“Not done yet, turn around.”
I do, and I can see you behind me in the steam-kissed mirror, pale skin and jade eyes and silver spider thread through your raven hair.
“What?”
“How come I didn’t get any of your looks?”
A laugh vibrates through your chest, your fingers tickling playfully at the back of my ribs as you peel off my tattered shirt. A short laugh cuts from my lips and I resist the urge to squirm back, to sore to bother fending you off.
“You’re beautiful, you don’t need my looks.”
Smiling from that, it’s less painful to feel your fingers probe my ribs, finding the shallow dips here and there, pressing the bruises.
“Nothing seems broken…” you muse out loud, eyes half shut in concentration as you chew the piercing through your bottom lip. “Lucky, from a crash like that…”
“Guess so,” Oh, it hurts, I almost ask you to stop… but I know you know what’s best.
My face suddenly feels sun-burnt.
“You’re blushing m’boy…” you tease, thumbs testing the gentle tip of my spine, pressing, following the curve. I can’t look away from your –from our- reflection in the mirror, your sharp toothed grin hovering my shoulder.
My heart flutters; I know you can hear it. Damn it, damn it, damn it…
“You look like a doctor in that coat,” I muse, awkwardly, a crooked sort of smile on my lips. “You never wear white.”
“Yeah, but this one was on sale, and it came with a free pair of pants.”
“…”
“What?”
“…. You are so gay.”
“Hey!” You look indignant, you’re eyes widening and I almost, almost laugh at you.
Then you grin.
And I know I’m in trouble.
“Is that any way to speak too your doctor?”
“… huh?” My stomach jumps and I watch my eyes widen in the mirror, watch your hands slither around my ribs to my front.
You look so pleased with yourself, with how easy you play me.
(More, more.)
“Come on now, I take care of you, I make you well, don’t you think you should respect me a little more then that?” Your chin rests on my shoulder, breath ghosting down my neck. The blush on my chest makes your hands glow like marble.
“M-maybe.”
Pale hands seep down my arms, catch my palms and turn them up, laying the backs of my bruised knuckles over one of your cool waiting hands.
“Tsk, Tsk….” The soft purr on my hair makes me shudder, “Look at this… all bruised and scratched…” fingertips of your free hand touch lightly to the wounds on my wrists, up my forearms, left from the bite of gravel and pavement. “These should be cleaned.”
Its like hypnosis, I can’t look away, can’t even blink as you drag the amber wet cotton swab across my wrists. I twitch, but the fingers coiled lightly through my own stop me from moving. My knees shake, aching against the smooth hard countertop. And you keep smiling, fangs glinting as bright as your eyes, your smile so so sweet I can hardly stand it.
I moan, soft, helpless, my back shaking against your chest.
“Now we should wrap them up…” And you’re winding the fine gossamer linen around both my wrists, biding them together.
“D-dad-”
“Shhh, I know what I’m doing…” your eyes in the glass look feline, and you’re grinning, daring me.
“… y-yes doctor.”
The binds slowly become tighter, until I can hardly feel my fingers, and you lift my arms above my head, biding them with the linen to the light fixture above the mirror. My heart thrashes against my ribs, blood dashing to fast through my veins. My insides feel burnt.
“I-is this really necessary, Doctor Forrest?” I play along, because I love playing with you, no matter what we’re playing. A smile tugs my lips but as I watch myself and you in the mirror, I make myself look unsure; frightened. You know I’m not… but it just makes things more fun.
“Of course…” My jean shorts slide down my legs, the fabric rough against the array of little nicks and starches stamped over the backs of my thighs. The fabric hangs in tatters around my knees as your hands drift like a cool breeze up the sides of my legs. My head falls back and I moan, tugging gently against the linen bindings.
“Ah! Oow!” the cry spills out of me as I feel the sharp bite of the antiseptic, falling in heavy cold drops down my skin, catching on my torn skin. “F-fuck…”
“Now, now, you know this is necessary… wouldn’t want you to get a nasty infection and ruin all your beautiful skin…” Mercifully you dab cotton over my skin, soaking up the clinging drops of orange-amber fluid, and tossing the swab to the floor with the others. The whole floor looks as if covered in bloody snow fall.
I shiver and wonder why you’re not kissing them better, a childish need making my chest tight. I open my mouth to ask, to plead if that’s what you want, but I’m cut off.
“Edaniel…” my stomach twists every time you use my full name, “Look…” My eyes crack open (I didn’t realize I had shut them) and peer foggily and the mirror before us.
My skin is pink and sore looking, dotted with dark bruises and the occasional scrape of scratch. The bandages dangle around my arms, swaying every time I twitch, landing in loose folds on my head.
My lips part with a gasp as your warm chest is pressed to my back, and I feel it’s bare under your new crisp white coat. One hand pushes my glasses up my nose, so I can see the other had so perfectly, as it slides down the glass. I follow your fingertips with my eyes, and –oh-… I see what you’re looking at; I see why you’re grinning against my ear.
The tip of my cock is straining through the waistband of my briefs, dripping heavy drops of white onto the fabric, and it’s clinging to my skin. Your fingers linger on the reflection, steam seeping onto the cool glass.
I can’t breathe; I just can’t breathe when you look at me like that.
“Please, please…” I’m begging before I can help it, starring at this shaking, flushed, stringy haired wide eyed little creature you turn me into, starring into your predator-ivy eyes, starring as your tongue as it traces the shell of my ear.
“These look quite uncomfortable,” you’re still pretending to be professional; at least your voice is, as your thumbs dip under the elastic of my briefs.
“Y-yes…”
“Should I take them off for you…?”
“Y-Y-yes…”
You’re waiting… oh, that’s why.
“Yes, doctor Forrest,” my voice shakes lose in a trembling little squeak. Sometimes I can’t believe the things you make me say.
The fabric slides down to my knees and you hand is wrapped around me stroking, oh, faster and faster…
“What a good little patient…” you purr and you know, you know that’s my weakness. I love when you exploit it, when you push me as far as I’ll go. I bite my lip and want to look away from the reflection, but I cant, I can’t take my eyes off your hand and how fast it’s moving up and down my cock.
Cries spill from my mouth as my hips buck. Your hand speeds up, you’re watching my eyes and how they swell and how the green in them lights as you push me, closer, closer, closer…
Your free hand curls around my front, catches a nipple and pinches, while a candied smile hangs on your lips. Your chin rests on my shoulder and your hair kisses my cheek; so soft against too warm skin. I’m gasping but I’m not getting any air.
A silky moan pours past your pale lips, and I want to kiss you, pulling impulsively against the bindings.
“I want to taste you, but you’d taste like antiseptic…” all I can do is cry out, half scared, I don’t know what you want me to say. “I was careful to cover all of you.” But seeing your eyes I know you’re planning something…
Lips brush the very base of my spine, the dip in just before my skin splits and…
..Oh... fuck…
Something warm and wet dips inside me, traces slowly, leisurely, around something inside me that’s clenched. I shriek, breathy, watching my mouth stretch in the mirror.
How do you do this to me?
Then it’s pressing, just pushing and opening me up. I can’t see your eyes, but I know they’re open, starring around the frail curve of my hip at the mirror. I can’t see it anymore, can’t see anything. Not with your tongue inside me there, not with your hand pulling that much harder.
When I see again, there’s white dripping down the mirror, and the boy in the mirror is shaking hard, his cock wet and limp between his legs. He looks pathetic.
“You’re beautiful…” your voice is normal… you’re done playing, and you’re making me blush hot and believe you.
“L-love you…” I whine, cracking open my eyes and turning my head, starving for a kiss.
“I love you too…” The medical scissors flash silver before you cut me down, and I crumple into your arms. “My beautiful Edaniel…”
“Are you taking me to bed now?” my vision isn’t clear yet, all I see if your face cut out against the dim blurry lights of our apartment, the black and white photographs framed on the wall. Nothing is clear except your eyes. They look softer now, the color of a canopy of green under dull dreamy moonlight.
“You should rest, after something like that.”
“… You referring to the crash, or…?”
“What do you think?”
I don’t bother answering; only smiling and letting my eyes role. I sink against your chest until you put me down, clinging around your neck until you slip onto the bed next to me.
“… Stay till I fall asleep?” my voice sounds so far away from me, I must already be half way there…
“Until you wake up,” but I can still see your pale-warm smile, feel your lips as the softly brush against my forehead. “Hn, you feel warm, could you have a fever?”
“Nooo,” I groan; almost a yawn, “no more playing doctor…”
You chuckle, the sound vibrating through you chest. I press my cheek to it, the sound of your heart beat filling my head, my hands weaving gently through your hair.
“Alright… goodnight Eddy…”
“Night Dad…” Cradled against your chest, your heartbeat sings me to sleep.
There, how's that? Please leave a comment and let me know what you liked/dislikes/fav part/whatever you thought!! Thank you! ^_~