by Laney Cairo
“Yeah,” I said, and slid off him and watched as he rolled a condom carefully over the beads and down his cock. He was a good size, long and lean, and I leaned forward and took his cock into my mouth.
I must admit I’m not used to using a condom for oral sex, but, hey, Matthew could have asked me to do pretty much anything right then and I would have agreed. Falsify his assessment? Sure. Let him submit a dodgy essay? Oh, yeah.
Skip rounds? Okay, as long as I could, too, and we could go fuck in the storeroom.
The beads were uncomfortable, bumping my palate at just the wrong place, so I changed angles, clambered around a little, and Matthew’s hands spread my thighs and settled on my cock and ass.
His fingers slipped a little in my sweat, and I got the angles right, and he groaned loudly. Fuck it all, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this, not this stretched-out-gonna-last-for-hours kind of turned on. Matthew’s thumb was pressing behind my balls, rubbing in circles, and his other hand was pumping my cock slowly. I sucked hard, and slid my hand between his thighs, pushing my fingers up against his perineum.
“Fuck, yes!” he cried out, and his legs thrashed on the bed and he was yelling and clutching at me and coming.
The sheets were rumpled and gritty beneath my back when Matthew pushed me down onto them, but his fingers were smooth and gentle as he rolled the condom onto my cock.
He ripped open a pack of sterile gloves, and the bit of mind that was still working noticed that he wore a size eight. Big hands, long fingers; then his mouth was on me, and his fingers pushed gently inside me, and I felt like I was one orgasm away from losing my mind. There was lube beside the bed, hospital issue lube, but I hadn’t noticed him putting some on his hand. He must have, because his fingers were sliding in and out steadily, and all I could do was ache and moan and wish it were his cock.
But I couldn’t have had his cock and his mouth at the same time, despite what porn videos might maintain, so I clung onto the sheets and made myself relax enough that I wasn’t ramming my cock down Matthew’s throat repeatedly.
I was glad the music was loud downstairs, because I couldn’t have stopped myself from yelling when I came, not with what Matthew was doing to me.
“Fuck,” I groaned, and he crawled up the bed when I held my arm out for him. He pulled the condom off and dumped it and the glove onto the mess beside the bed. The air was thick with the smell of sex and come, and I buried my nose into his hair and took a deep breath in, inhaling his shampoo and skin smell, before lolling my head back onto the pillow.
“Whoever you gave your condoms to, I hope they have sex as good as we did,” I said, and Matthew propped himself up on his elbow and grinned.
“Nevins and Lin. And I doubt it. I suspect Nevins at least is a virgin. He’s certainly stupid enough to have unprotected sex.”
My hand slid down Matthew’s body to touch his cock.
“What’s the piercing called?” I asked. “I’ve seen a Prince Albert on a patient, and it didn’t look like this.”
“It’s an apadravya; it’s mentioned in the Kama Sutra, that’s how old the piercing is,” Matthew said. “And yes, it hurt like fuck getting it done, and I wouldn’t part with it now.”
Now Matthew’s cock was soft, the bar slid backward and forward through the flesh smoothly, but I heard the catch in his breath. “Is that good?” I asked.
“Yeah, feels good to have it touched.”
Matthew gave a hiss of pleasure when I twisted the bar gently, and I could feel him hardening in my hand. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to take this to my place, with some food?” I asked.
“No food here, no beer, no condoms. We need to move to your place.”
Chapter Nine
When I had takeaway, it was a chip butty from the local chippie, but the stuff that Andrew carried back to the car smelled amazing.
He handed the bags over to me and started the car.
“Galangal chicken,” he said. “With fresh pineapple. Squid in black pepper sauce. Lemon and coconut sauce in that container. Prawn wontons. Cardamom rice.”
“What sort of food is this?” I asked, opening the container and taking a piece of chicken out.
“It claims to be Thai, but in fact it’s whatever the chef wants to cook.”
The chicken was amazingly good, sweet and tangy and delicious, and I took another piece. “Fucking brilliant,” I said, fishing out a piece of pineapple and eating it.
Andrew looked sideways at me and chuckled. “One day, you, too, will be earning enough money to eat this stuff.”
“Oh, God,” I said, finding some more chicken. “I can’t wait.
Just a resident’s pay looks pretty bloody good right now. I’m tired of living on a student loan.”
“Go ahead and eat it all,” Andrew said, smiling at me while we were stopped at a traffic light.
“I will.” I fed him a piece of pineapple and put my feet up on the dash of the car. “How come you drive such a crappy car? I thought all doctors had flash cars, that it was some kind of prerequisite for the job.”
“A couple of reasons. On a purely financial basis, a car is a depreciating asset, unlike property, for instance. It’s bad income management to spend a stack of money on a car, according to my accountant. ‘Drive the cheapest car your ego will let you,’ she told me. And I take a perverse pleasure in refusing to play along with other people’s expectations of how I should behave.”
“I like it,” I said. “Partly because I can put my feet on the dash without worrying. Partly because I just spilt galangal sauce over the seat, and you might be pissed at me if you had a decent car.”
Andrew chuckled. “I’m going to make you lick that up,” he said.
He didn’t, and I’d eaten all of the chicken by the time he opened the security gates at a fancy set of terraces with a remote control and parked the car.
The gates swung shut behind us, and he led me down the row of houses to his.
The light above the porch worked, indicating the security here was decent, and Andrew unlocked the door and disarmed the security system while I nodded approvingly at his house.
It wasn’t tidy or anything, but the couch looked comfortable underneath its covering of books and newspapers, and it didn’t smell of engineers, unlike my place.
I picked up a framed photo of a kid from a bookshelf and Andrew peered over my shoulder at it. I could feel him radiating affection.
“That’s Henry, my son,” he said. “He’s the reason I’m here.”
“How come?” I asked, studying the photo. The kid was kind of chubby and looked nothing like Andrew.
Andrew took the photo out of my hands and put it back on the shelf. “His mom got offered work here, and rather than make him choose who he wanted to live with, I followed them over from the States. I can work anywhere as a doctor, but she’s a classical violinist, and they don’t have a lot of career options.”
It struck me then what a generous man Andrew was.
“Food?” Andrew said, hefting the bags of takeaway, and I followed him into the kitchen. He found plates and forks while I opened the fridge, curious as to what I’d find.
Not food, at least not food that didn’t come in jars. There was beer, and bottles of wine. Jars of olives, packs of cheese, dried fruit. Not particularly healthy, but not disgusting either.
The freezer had a bottle of vodka in it, and nothing else, so I closed it and took out two beers. Andrew held out a plate piled with food to me. “We’ll need to sit on the couch, I’ve never bothered getting a dining table of any sort.”
He cleared the couch by pushing everything off it onto the floor, and we sat down. Andrew must have been starving because he cleared his plate. I wasn’t quite so hungry, having already eaten all that chicken in the car, but it was still excellent. A few hours earlier I’d been standing at the bar, considering the relative importance of food versus beer. Now, here I was, free beer and food.
Oh, yeah, and t
he sex.
I put the plate down on the coffee table and leaned across and kissed Andrew.
We wound up with me straddling him, his hands sliding up and down my back, mouths joined, moaning simultaneously. I hadn’t been with a man like Andrew for a long time. Between studying and… well… studying, I’d been taking what I could get in the way of sex. A quick hand job here, a bit of head there; I’d not really got into being with someone for a long time.
And, God, I was into this.
Andrew’s hands had found my nipple bars again, making me squirm and shudder. “Bedroom? That’s where the latex is.”
His bedroom was messy, but without the level of microbiological dismay that mine had. There was no underlying odour of mildew, fewer textbooks, and there was the world’s shiniest sound system on a bookshelf. Andrew might not drive a fancy, or even clean, car but the man was a sound equipment whore.
He turned the bedside light on and the main light off, and pressed buttons on the stereo. It wasn’t commercial pop that came out of the speakers hanging from the ceiling but slow rolling drums, a soft percussive track that I could see the erotic potential of.
His bed was large and comfortable and I sprawled across it and took the condom he offered me. He let me roll it on my cock, presumably because it took some finesse to get it safely over the beads, then began to suck me again.
Oh, fuck, but this was good. We’d both been in too much of a screaming hurry last time, but this time the drum beat was low and smooth and Andrew’s mouth was firm as it slid up and down my cock.
“Gloves?” I asked, and he lifted his head briefly.
“Top drawer, along with the lube,” he said, and I had to grin.
Either he had the same strict code of safe sex as I did… or really freaky stuff happened in this bedroom. Either option seemed good; I could do really freaky. There was nothing turned me on like a man who wanted to be taken to the very edge of what his body could bear.
I pulled a glove on and touched Andrew’s arse gently, just brushing my fingers over the skin, tickling and teasing, and his breathing suddenly became audible over the drums. Oh, yeah, he was into this.
The lube wasn’t hospital issue, it was one of the slippery high-tech brands, and drips marked the sheets when I squeezed it onto my fingers. I kept my touch light still, warming Andrew and the lube up, then slipped one finger into him.
It was only a little way in, up to the first knuckle, but he was groaning around my cock now, and I slid it all the rest of the way in. “You’re going to fucking love my cock in your arse,” I said.
Three seconds later, he was stretched out across the bed, jerking away at his own cock, two of my fingers all the way inside him, yelling his head off as I finger-fucked him hard. I deliberately wasn’t hitting his prostate, though I could tell by the way he was moving that he was instinctively trying to get in the right position for that. No, the first thing that touched him there was going to be the big bead on my piercing as I slid into him.
I slid my fingers out, and Andrew’s eyes opened. He was so fucking beautiful that I almost forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Almost, but not completely.
It felt so good to touch myself when I smeared lube over my cock, good enough to distract me for a moment, then I was kneeling… leaning… pushing gently.
Fuck.
It took a mammoth effort of will to hold still with just the head of my cock inside Andrew, but I managed to wait for him to growl, “Fuck me, for fuck’s sake.”
One long, slow, practiced push slid me half a length in, just about right in my opinion, and he fucking went crazy, thrashing around on the bed, clawing at me, yelling and swearing. I pushed all the way in, pulled back out half way, hit the spot again, and he just erupted. God, I loved my piercing right at that moment.
Once I was sure of what I was doing, sure of him, I kept my thrusts shallow, just rocking the bead backward and forward. My arms ached, my back twinged, and Andrew was so tight and utterly fuckable.
He wasn’t going to last long, he didn’t stand a chance, and I loved this, loved making someone’s control crumble. He was jerking hard on his cock, I could feel his knuckles sliding across my belly, then he shouted and arched his back and I thrust in hard, and fucked him hard and fast as he came, taking myself over the edge, too.
Gasping, I collapsed down onto him, and the drums were keeping time with both of our hearts.
Chapter Ten
There was a quiet groan from Matthew when my alarm went off and I rolled over and switched it off.
“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.
“Five thirty. Want some coffee?”
“Why the fuck are you getting up this early?” Matthew asked. He rolled over and slid an arm around my hips, pulling me closer.
“Internal Medicine monthly divisional meeting at seven,” I said. “Gotta turn up, don’t have to be awake though.”
Matthew chuckled and I kissed the tip of his nose, and he wriggled away from me, rubbing at his face in disgust.
“Yuck.”
I left him and went to shower. Yuck was about right. It had been an intense night and I ached in a not particularly good way, and desperately needed a shower.
My ass was tender when I washed it; the soap stung and made me wince, but I hadn’t done any damage. I’d change the sheets tonight, too.
When I walked back into the bedroom, towel around my waist, in search of clean clothes, Matthew had fallen asleep again, so I left him in peace.
The coffee was good and strong, and I leaned against the pantry, mind pleasantly empty. Divisional meetings usually made me all bitter, but my brain was like Jell-o this morning.
I didn’t think I could even manage to quote Hemingway at anyone.
“‘Never been daunted in public… I’m like a cat that way,’” I quoted. Oh, great, I managed to be intellectual and literary at six in the morning, and there was no one here to appreciate it.
The coffee percolator just sulked, so I shrugged and went and brushed my teeth.
I woke Matthew, gently shaking his shoulder, and he blinked at me and smiled slowly. “I have to go now. Do you want me to drop you back at your place? Or do you think you can deal with catching a bus from here?”
“Where are we?” he asked, stretching under the bedding.
“You’re close to Euston Road, aren’t you?”
I nodded and pointed. “That way, about four blocks. Just pull the door closed as you leave, don’t worry about the security system, it can stay off all day.” I kissed him quickly.
“Must go now; borrow a shirt or something if you need to.
And a razor.”
Matthew smiled at me. “Sure.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Dinner tonight?” I asked.
“Or is your workload too much?”
Matthew’s mouth twitched a little, perhaps in surprise, and he said, “Dinner would be wonderful, but I do need to hit the books tonight. Perhaps I could do that here, if I’m not being too pushy?”
“Sounds good. It’s not like I’m short on work to do. I’ll pick you up from your place?”
Matthew nodded, and I kissed him and left before we started showing each other our cocks again.
* * *
I wandered into the conference room, coffee in one hand, sticky bun in the other, files under my arms. I was still feeling peaceful and undeniably fucked, and F slapped me hard on my back, slopping my coffee.
“You’re looking relaxed there, Andrew. Had a good night?”
“You’re painfully happy there, F,” I retorted. “Get any sleep?”
“Like an infant,” F said, sitting down beside me. “She’s a qualified massage therapist and Reiki practitioner. I’m in love, or at least in like. What about you?”
I shrugged. “How about I just say that I had my horizons broadened?”
F’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” he said in a low voice. “I want to hear about it.”
I could trust F; h
e’d never betrayed a confidence before.
“One word for you: apadravya.”
He looked puzzled and I smiled in a way that I hoped was enigmatic, but probably looked smug.
The head of the division came in and sat down and I leaned back in my chair, prepared to enjoy the show. F had grown frustrated with the bureaucracy and politics and had deliberately misdiagnosed one of his patients as having kidney cancer, with the patient’s full knowledge, just to force a surgical team to review her. It had worked, but he had pissed off a lot of people, including the head of the surgical division. This was going to be fun.
The division head dropped a stack of patient case files on the table and said, “I need to talk about proper channels today.”
“’Don’t you know about Irony and Pity?’” I quoted under my breath.
* * *
There was a gaggle of med students in the staff room, waiting for me. I put what must have been my fourth or fifth coffee of the morning on the table and sat down, looking at them. The boy with the spots looked anxious, and I wondered what he’d done wrong. The girl with the repaired cleft palate was yawning sleepily. Lin looked smug. And Nevins … Nevins looked like he’d found heaven or something. He was positively beaming.
Matthew—no, Blake, since we were at work—looked the same as he always did. He was a better actor than I would have thought possible.
“There’s a British Medical Association divisional meeting this afternoon so I won’t be able to listen to this week’s presentations. You can choose between working on whatever assessment pieces are overdue, or sitting in on the meeting, which is where I’ll be.”
“What’s happened?” Lin said. “The division meeting isn’t due for another two months.”
I looked at her, impressed, and she coloured a little. “I joined last year,” she explained. “All the meetings are in the newsletter.”
“Excellent,” I said. “The rest of you, as soon as you can afford it, join the BMA. They’re the closest thing you have to a union, and when your employer tries to discipline you for doing the best you can for your patients, you’re going to need them.”