Negotiations 44
Happy New Year 2021! Wishing you all the best in this crazy time we're living in. Please let me know your thoughts. :) Plum
Go back to Negotations 43 or start from the beginning.
NEGOTIATIONS 44
DILL’S POV
The first instruction you were given was to stand on the small step on the edge of the exam table and bend over onto the crisp white paper. Justin stood beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder and upper back. He whispered to you as Brian readied his table of tools. “You okay?” Justin began, “You’re doing great.”
“Yep. It smells like a hospital in here. I love that.”
Justin grinned, “I know. I told you: he doesn’t mess around.”
“You were right,” you admitted.
He gave you pointers, “Always ‘present’ for him when you bend over: stand on your toes and arch your back.” You did as instructed and heard Brian say, “Good boy,” and then, “Let’s get your vital signs first and then we’ll deal with the reason you’re here.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And then with no verbal warning, Brian’s gloved fingers spread you apart and inserted an ice cold thermometer in your ass. You looked up at Justin, and he stroked your forehead as if you were a small child with the sniffles and explained, “Frozen cold lube.”
Your hands and feet became clammy as a wicked blend of intrusive humiliation began to whirl inside you. You only knew what kind of thermometer it was when it beeped. Brian removed it and expressed dissatisfaction at the reading. The next attempt was four thermometers at once, again, all ice cold. “Don’t drop them,” Justin warned you. As each one completed its cycle and beeped, it was removed. As number three was removed, number four slipped out of you and fell, hitting the step you were standing on.
You didn’t dare move. You wanted time to stop, too.
Dr. Kinney hmmmd in disapproval, rested his hand on your ass and slipped his thumb, also cold-coated, inside you. He scolded you, “An ass as tight as yours shouldn’t let that happen.”
“I apologize,” you muttered, not sure if you were allowed to speak.
“Keep your ass up at all times,” Brian warned you as his hand slapped your butt cheek. You felt your face redden, so you hid it in your hands.
“He means it,” Justin whispered, his fingers toying with your hair, “He‘ll punish you for that no matter what.”
Brian teased you, pumping his thumb in and out until you moaned. “You like that?” he asked you.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I like when you tell me the truth,” Brian said and then he ordered you, “Get up on the table on your back, feet in the stirrups.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Brian rolled back on his wheeled stool while Justin helped you get up on the table. That was the moment you realized why the cuffs had been left on. Justin cuffed your ankles to the stirrups and your arms over your head to the bar holding the roll of paper. He rubbed your stomach and your head, “You still green?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he affirmed as he leaned down and kissed you. He promised, “The more you obey him, the more I want to do unspeakable things to you.”
“Thank you, Sir. Like what?” you asked.
Justin pondered your question, “Hmm, I don’t know… Maybe dip you in a barrel of warm honey and then dust you with bougie granola and make you my snack.”
You blinked several times before responding, “You really might be insane, Sir.”
“Well, it could be cold organic vanilla yogurt instead of warm honey. Is that better?”
“I think you spend too much time at snobby grocery stores, Sir. That’s what I think,” you replied.
Justin smiled at you very sweetly, his back to Brian, “You’re not wrong. Bottom line is: I’ll do whatever I want to you because you’re mine.”
You smiled back, “I know.” You liked that.
Brian got up and came to the opposite side of the table. Justin backed up a step as your new physician smiled warmly at you with his stethoscope in his ears as he leaned forward to listen to your heart. “Quite a robust heartbeat,” he reported.
“Thank you,” you said. And quite the understatement as there’s an entire Christmas parade of high school marching bands in my chest cavity right now, and all of them have killer drum sections.
You stared up at Dr. Kinney as his gloved hand ran up your chest and curled around your neck. He applied just the slightest amount of pressure, and you wondered if you would ever breathe again or if maybe oxygen was overrated. Justin, meanwhile, was touching your inner thigh, petting you and grinning all the while.
“Open your mouth and say ah,” Dr. Kinney instructed, and when you complied, he slid a flavored tongue depressor too far down your throat, making you gag over and over. When he finally removed it, he grinned at you, “I love that choking sound. Makes me hard.”
You coughed hard in response, your body trying to curl up but unable to find enough slack in your restraints. Justin wiped your mouth with his fingers, “You’re okay. You can’t help it. You’re just a whore.”
Uh,” you said, “That was flavored weird. Was it cherry?”
Brian pulled the wrapper out of his pocket, laughed, and then handed it to Justin, asking him, “What does that say?” He clearly couldn’t read the small print.
“Yeah, cherry,” Justin affirmed, “You need your glasses,” he scolded your faux physician.
Dr. Kinney, “No, they’ll make his hole look too big and I might hurt him.”
(You couldn’t decide which side of that issue you came down on so you mentally recused yourself.)
Dr. Kinney clicked on a pen light and looked in your eyes, up your nose and in your ears. “So far, so good,” he announced. He took your pulse. His fingers moved to your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before pinching them...over and over...all while smiling down at you with his irresistible bedside manner. “You know,” he said, “I know a little about your case; I’ve done some research, and I think I’ve determined what ails you.”
“You have?” you asked.
Dr. Kinney sighed as he gave you the news, “Yes, I’m afraid you have UFS.”
“What’s UFS?” you asked.
Dr. Kinney’s expression remained serious and over-the-top concerned as he replied, “Under-Fucked Syndrome. It’s uncommon in homosexual men your age-mostly just in young Republicans, but we still see it from time to time. Nothing to worry too much about as Mr. Taylor and I can design a treatment plan that will all but cure you.”
“Thank you, Sir. That’s very reassuring,” you offered.
“I suspected as much,” Justin said to you, “But, nevertheless, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”
“Thank you,” you replied, “But If you guys insinuate that I’m a Republican again, I will scream my safe word and leave.”
Dr. Kinney apologized, “Please forgive us. We saw the size of your trunk and assumed you were an elephant. It won’t happen again.”
Jusitn leaned forward laughing, kissed your forehead, and continued, “I had an advanced case of UFS when I met Brian, and he cured me in one night over twenty years ago.”
Brian stifled a laugh, cleared his throat and got serious again, “Well, to be fair, he requires constant treatments to keep his UFS under control. He ‘thinks’ he was cured in one night, but that delusion is an unfortunate side effect of the treatment.”
“He must have great insurance,” you added.
“We had a telethon, Dr. Kinney. Remember?” Justin asked, and when Brian didn’t immediately respond, Justin reached over the table and patted Brian’s white-coat arm, “It was a long time ago.”
“What’s a telethon?” you asked.
Justin smiled down at you, “It’s a GoFundMe for septuagenarians.”
Dr. Kinney raised an eyebrow and replied, “Be careful, Mr. Taylor, or you may find that your treatments are no longer covered by your insurance.” And when Justin smirked in response, he added, “And that there are no other providers in your area for five hundred miles.”
“I can always go out of network; I mean, I can afford it,” Justin lobbed back.
Dr. Kinney looked Justin up and down before walking to the table, picking up his clipboard and adding another tick mark to the square in the bottom right corner. That was the moment you realized what the squares were probably for and yours, thank all the gods everywhere, was still empty. You looked at Justin who was watching what you were watching and decided that he knew, too, and didn’t care one bit.
You spoke up, jingling your restrictive chains against the metal they were hooked to, “Um, this room gets kind of chilly when no one’s paying attention to me.”
Dr. Kinney set his clipboard down and turned your direction, smiling kindly again, “You make a very valid point, Dill.” He did not share that smile with Justin but he didn’t see it as he was back by your side groping you affectionately.
Dr. Kinney added, now standing between your knees, “The good news for you is that we caught this early. I’ve seen one or two hopeless situations over my career, but this isn’t one of them. The question is, will you be committed to the treatment plan?”
Justin answered for you, “Oh, he will be. Trust me.”
You nodded emphatically, making eye contact with both of them. “It’s just such a relief to know what I’m dealing with.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dr. Kinney said, “A positive attitude is half the battle.”
……
Next, Dr. Kinney examined you much more thoroughly, fucking you with his cold gloved fingers, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that maddeningly alluded you. You knew it wasn’t possible to come again and the constant stimulation felt wonderful and gross at the same time. You looked up at Justin and admitted, “I’m going to scream.”
“Frustrated?” he asked with a sly smile.
Dr. Kinney stopped, “I’m sorry. Is there a problem?”
“He doesn’t like this part of the treatment,” Justin said, winking at you. You couldn’t tell who’s side he was on anymore.
“Well, we can switch gears,” Dr. Kinney said, and Justin agreed. You exhaled dramatically. Justin unhooked your hands and pulled them forward, “Shake them out. I’m sure they need it.” As you complied, Dr. Kinney questioned you, “Have you ever had your ass plugged?”
“I have a plug at home that I’ve played with but it’s really hard to use sex toys on campus.”
“Okay.”
“I also have a urethral plug I like.”
Dr. Kinney’s eyebrow rose again, perched in uncertainty, “You sound?”
“Sometimes. The pressure is wicked.”
“Don’t you have to be really careful and use sterile lube?” Justin asked.
You nodded, “Yes, and I just have a short plug. I haven’t done the whole cock-stuffing thing.”
Brian looked at Justin, “We don’t even do that. He can teach us something.”
“He can teach you something,” Justin offered, “I’m not sticking something into my cock.”
Brian laughed, muttering under his breath, “Right, just everywhere else.”
You laughed as Justin ignored him. Dr. Kinney continued the questioning, “Ever been fisted?” as he sat himself on the stool between your legs.
“No, Sir.”
“It’s fucking amazing,” Justin informed you, and then he laughed and pointed at Brian, “I fisted him by accident just the other day.”
Brian started to chuckle, so you asked him, “Is that true?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Dr. Kinney offered, “Time to finish your examination.” Brian picked up the speculum and told you, “Um, lie back down, please. I hope you like a good stretch.” Justin focused you, “Dill, look at me and communicate so I can be sure this goes the way you want, okay?”
“Okay,” you agreed.
***********
BRIAN’S POV
You gathered Dill’s cock and balls in your hands and slipped a black rubber ring around both keeping them out of your way. Then you dipped your speculum in hot lube before carefully beginning the insertion process. Dill seemed please with that detail, his back arching as he moaned, “Oh my fucking God.”
“Like that?” you asked him.
His eyes were wide open and not blinking as he added, “Jesus, that feels so good. Oh my god.”
You hadn’t fucked this kid, so you took your time, moving incrementally as he relaxed around the hard awkward metal. He kept staring at the ceiling, and Justin pulled his eyes back to his each time. You listened to Dill but watched Justin’s face because you can read that accurately no matter what. If he looked concerned, you stopped pushing. You intended to incorporate a little pain play into the mix, but Dill’s breathing was inconsistent. With the tool about halfway inserted, you stopped and held firm. “Talk to us, Dill,” you tried.
“My mouth went dry,” he said.
Justin smiled, “You want some water?”
“Sure,” he panted.
After Justin brought him some, you tried again, “Are you uncomfortable or do you feel good?”
He rolled his head toward Justin, “I don’t have a word for this feeling, but it’s not bad.”
Justin leaned down and kissed him before making a request, “Good. I want you to look at me and listen to me.”
Dill responded, “Yes, Sir.”
You watched as Justin’s hand slithered down Dill’s torso and wrapped around his inner thigh, “This feeling you feel, let it in. Let it take over every inch of you.”
“Okay.”
You watched as Justin blindly ran his fingertip around the circumference of Dill’s hole. The kid relaxed a little more so you pushed a little more as Justin continued, “This is what floating feels like. It’s a little weird at first, but it’s going to be amazing.”
Dill looked dumbfounded, but Justin was right, and then your husband’s hand moved, his fingers folding inward because he was waving you in. You pushed a little more and got another insane moan from your patient, and a little appreciation smile from your spouse. Then Justin’s hand slid across and indicated that he wanted you to remove the rubber ring. You nodded, made sure it was super slick and rolled it off his cock and balls. Dill’s hips rose up off the table; Justin urged them back down. Dill looked desperate as he spoke, “This is...fucked up. I’m going to shoot but I know I can’t.”
Justin kept at it, “Then go ahead. Just let whatever’s going to happen...happen.”
“I can’t,” Dill tried, his voice laced with distress.
“You can,” Justin encouraged, “And you will because I told you to and you don’t disobey me.” You looked down between your legs to confirm that your cock was looking up at you. And then you watched as Justin cradled Dill’s balls in his hand and started to squeeze. “Tell Dr. Kinney that you like this,” he ordered your patient. Dill wore a confused expression, lost somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction with no ability to move in either direction. Justin squeezed even more, “Tell him now.”
“I...like...this,” Dill squeaked out before he groaned in an enviable agony as a tiny amount of fluid leaked onto his stomach. “Ah, fuck. Sir, please,” he begged Justin.
“Please what?” Justin asked.
“Mercy, please,” Dill tried again.
Justin turned, looked at you and gave you a signal to start pulling out. As you did, he worked quickly to unchain Dill’s ankles and remove all of the cuffs on his body. “Good boy,” he praised him.
“Hold still,” you warned him, positioning him on his side and holding him down. “One more temperature check. Don’t drop it.” You pretended that you got a reading you liked, and then began to wipe him clean. He held onto Justin’s torso the way a child does when he doesn’t want you to leave him at school on the first day.
“Brian, help me,” Justin requested when you were finished. You got up having shed your white coat and stethoscope, picked Dill up off the table, made a one hundred and eighty degree turn and deposited him onto the bed. You studied Justin as he walked the perimeter of the bed, got a condom from the nightstand and dispensed with his dungeon clothes. He kneeled next to Dill, “Roll over and get your ass up so I can fuck you.”
Well, good day, Sunshine…
You started stroking yourself as you joined them on the bed. Justin gave orders, telling you to sit at the head of the bed with Dill’s upper body between your knees. Justin talked shit to Dill as he fucked him, “You’re such a useful little whore, you know that?”
Dill moaned, “Yes, Sir.”
“And the amazing way you feel right now, I gave you that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, one hundred percent.”
Justin was glistening with power and purpose; you toyed with your cock some more until he tasked you with, “Hold him where he is so I can fuck the shit of the him.”
You smiled at Justin as you kept Dill pinned and gave Justin something substantial to really push against. It was one hell of a show, and when it was over, you played the role of a stagehand by dimming the lights and quietly putting everything from your medical scene away. When you laid back down with them, Dill was curled against Justin’s chest. That was when the three of you could once again clearly hear the hospital sounds still playing, only it was on autoplay at that point playing some ER track complete with chaos, trauma, gunshot wounds, wailing patients and blue codes. Dill laughed, “Wow, this is super realistic.”
“Wait til it gets to the child birth part,” you teased.
“Oh, um, no way,” Justin said, “Turn that off.”
“Yes, dear,” you said as you retrieved your phone. When you rejoined them, Justin motioned for you to grab a blanket and come in closer. Dill was nestled between you when you asked him, “You good? You nice and green?”
“Very,” Dill purred, and then he asked, “Was that thing even all the way inside me?”
“No,” Justin said.
“It was as far as it could go,” you clarified, “UFS is an evil disorder. Sneaks up on you at the most inconvenient times.”
“Brian, you crack me up. I never thought I’d get medical play and a comedy show all in one,” Dill admitted, “And I don’t even have to pay for this-“
“Well…not with money…,” you mentioned. Dill’s eye’s opened wide; you winked at him.
Justin took his opportunity, “Dill, do not encourage him.”
You laughed, “And just think, if Justin hadn’t refused to wear the nurse’s outfit I had for him, it would’ve be-“
Dill interrupted asking Justin, “Wait, was that why you threw that bag across the room when we were upstairs?”
Your partner interrupted and spoke only to you, “You are high if you think I was going to wear nothing but a shiny white patent leather jock strap and a tiny pillbox hat and be your nurse, Brian.”
“This experience was for Dill,” you pointed out, “So maybe try being a little less selfish?”
Dill’s body was reverberating with laughter between you as Justin continued to bitch at you, “And I don’t do hats. And you know that.”
“You’re so cute when you’re outraged,” you told your better half, “But calm down or I’ll have to sedate you.”
“Yeah,” Dill teased Justin, “He’s a Board Certified Assologist, after all.”
“Trust me,” Justin lobbed back, “Nobody knows that better than me. Who do you think bought him that white coat?”
“Exactly,” you pointed out, “You bought me an outfit and asked me to play a role for you and I did it...because...well, probably, because I love you or something.”
Dill smiled, “Aw, because he loves you.”
Justin was unassuaged by your affectionate declaration, “Hats and kink do not mesh for me, okay?”
“Duly noted, darling.”
Dill asked the obvious question, “How did we go from ER to divorce court? That was quick.”
Justin announced matter-of-factly, “Okay, I’ll drop the accusation and stipulate that Brian possessed no overarching motive and wasn’t trying to trigger me with cosplay.”
You jabbed Dill playfully with your elbow, “You’re right. He is a little crazy. Decades of UFS treatments clearly take a toll.”
***********
Justin spent time with Dill after the scene, helping him get settled to sleep in the theater. Dill was more than willing to sleep in the dungeon alone, but Justin refused; the idea made him queasy. While they finished up, you’d retired upstairs to begin your skin routine. As you exfoliated and began layering serum after serum, a new perspective was born, maybe because you were staring at yourself in the mirror, quietly battling back the effects of time as it took root:
Love is freedom in practice, the space between every breath, not the breath itself.
Ugh..
You slapped your face and tried to snap out of it.
The man you love, you could hear him on the stairs, even though his feet were probably bare, his presence somehow swelled ahead of him. As you killed the light and exited the bathroom, he was sliding into bed. As you joined him, there were conversation topics imminently available, but they were discarded, redundant. “Tired?” is all he wanted to know.
He meant: will you be able to sleep? because you need to…. He knew you had to get up very early and run through your presentation.
“Yeah,” you answered.
He smiled and urged you onto your back, his body melting warm on top of you. He pressed his hips against yours and ”mmmm”ed in response to your erection. You knew he was paying attention to more than just Dill in the basement; he was keeping tabs on you, too, on whether or not you’d have this for him when he was done with his new toy.
“Wanna hear something funny?” Justin asked you.
“Sure.”
“When he was getting ready for bed, Dill asked me if I’m worried about all the demerits I’m racking up-“
You wrapped your hands around his biceps, “You should be worried about the demerits you’re racking up.”
Justin wasn’t buying it, “Yeah, okay. I want to sit on your cock.”
“I’d like that,” you said, “But tease me a little, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered as you helped him take your cock in the dark under the sheets, his torso covering yours. Justin placed his fingers on your eyebrows, traced them and let them drift down over your eyelids, effectively closing them. He kissed you as his hips moved like a wave during low tide, dragging moments of intense pleasure out of their hiding places. “Tease me,” you reminded him.
“Tease yourself,” he said, so you smiled as you placed your hands on his ass and squeezed, sliding your cock in and almost out of him over and over, his moans vibrating through your skin. You get to cheat like that because he’s yours; you get to pluck out the most pleasurable nano-movement and wear it out whenever you want. That privilege feels as good as the act itself. He took over at some point and rode you until you came inside him, the longest emptying you’d ever known. You confessed when it was over, feeling far more like a patient than a doctor, “Watching you with him made me really hard.”
“I noticed that,” he said and then he kissed you for a long long long time.
You confessed further, “Somehow, I think you knew that it would.”
Justin smiled down at you as his index finger traced the edge of your face, “Maybe, but that’s a secret.”
“So what are you going to do to him tomorrow while I’m slaving away at work?” you asked.
“Um, probably a lot of whatever the fuck I want.”
With affection in your voice, you asked him, “Why did I train you so well, and how did I not see this coming?”
“Because you habitually underestimate me, Dr. Kinney. You always have.”
“I guess that’s my disorder then huh?”
Justin grinned down at you, “Yep, twenty plus years of the best suffering you’ve ever had.”
And counting...
Negotiations 45
Go back to Negotations 43 or start from the beginning.
NEGOTIATIONS 44
DILL’S POV
The first instruction you were given was to stand on the small step on the edge of the exam table and bend over onto the crisp white paper. Justin stood beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder and upper back. He whispered to you as Brian readied his table of tools. “You okay?” Justin began, “You’re doing great.”
“Yep. It smells like a hospital in here. I love that.”
Justin grinned, “I know. I told you: he doesn’t mess around.”
“You were right,” you admitted.
He gave you pointers, “Always ‘present’ for him when you bend over: stand on your toes and arch your back.” You did as instructed and heard Brian say, “Good boy,” and then, “Let’s get your vital signs first and then we’ll deal with the reason you’re here.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And then with no verbal warning, Brian’s gloved fingers spread you apart and inserted an ice cold thermometer in your ass. You looked up at Justin, and he stroked your forehead as if you were a small child with the sniffles and explained, “Frozen cold lube.”
Your hands and feet became clammy as a wicked blend of intrusive humiliation began to whirl inside you. You only knew what kind of thermometer it was when it beeped. Brian removed it and expressed dissatisfaction at the reading. The next attempt was four thermometers at once, again, all ice cold. “Don’t drop them,” Justin warned you. As each one completed its cycle and beeped, it was removed. As number three was removed, number four slipped out of you and fell, hitting the step you were standing on.
You didn’t dare move. You wanted time to stop, too.
Dr. Kinney hmmmd in disapproval, rested his hand on your ass and slipped his thumb, also cold-coated, inside you. He scolded you, “An ass as tight as yours shouldn’t let that happen.”
“I apologize,” you muttered, not sure if you were allowed to speak.
“Keep your ass up at all times,” Brian warned you as his hand slapped your butt cheek. You felt your face redden, so you hid it in your hands.
“He means it,” Justin whispered, his fingers toying with your hair, “He‘ll punish you for that no matter what.”
Brian teased you, pumping his thumb in and out until you moaned. “You like that?” he asked you.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I like when you tell me the truth,” Brian said and then he ordered you, “Get up on the table on your back, feet in the stirrups.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Brian rolled back on his wheeled stool while Justin helped you get up on the table. That was the moment you realized why the cuffs had been left on. Justin cuffed your ankles to the stirrups and your arms over your head to the bar holding the roll of paper. He rubbed your stomach and your head, “You still green?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he affirmed as he leaned down and kissed you. He promised, “The more you obey him, the more I want to do unspeakable things to you.”
“Thank you, Sir. Like what?” you asked.
Justin pondered your question, “Hmm, I don’t know… Maybe dip you in a barrel of warm honey and then dust you with bougie granola and make you my snack.”
You blinked several times before responding, “You really might be insane, Sir.”
“Well, it could be cold organic vanilla yogurt instead of warm honey. Is that better?”
“I think you spend too much time at snobby grocery stores, Sir. That’s what I think,” you replied.
Justin smiled at you very sweetly, his back to Brian, “You’re not wrong. Bottom line is: I’ll do whatever I want to you because you’re mine.”
You smiled back, “I know.” You liked that.
Brian got up and came to the opposite side of the table. Justin backed up a step as your new physician smiled warmly at you with his stethoscope in his ears as he leaned forward to listen to your heart. “Quite a robust heartbeat,” he reported.
“Thank you,” you said. And quite the understatement as there’s an entire Christmas parade of high school marching bands in my chest cavity right now, and all of them have killer drum sections.
You stared up at Dr. Kinney as his gloved hand ran up your chest and curled around your neck. He applied just the slightest amount of pressure, and you wondered if you would ever breathe again or if maybe oxygen was overrated. Justin, meanwhile, was touching your inner thigh, petting you and grinning all the while.
“Open your mouth and say ah,” Dr. Kinney instructed, and when you complied, he slid a flavored tongue depressor too far down your throat, making you gag over and over. When he finally removed it, he grinned at you, “I love that choking sound. Makes me hard.”
You coughed hard in response, your body trying to curl up but unable to find enough slack in your restraints. Justin wiped your mouth with his fingers, “You’re okay. You can’t help it. You’re just a whore.”
Uh,” you said, “That was flavored weird. Was it cherry?”
Brian pulled the wrapper out of his pocket, laughed, and then handed it to Justin, asking him, “What does that say?” He clearly couldn’t read the small print.
“Yeah, cherry,” Justin affirmed, “You need your glasses,” he scolded your faux physician.
Dr. Kinney, “No, they’ll make his hole look too big and I might hurt him.”
(You couldn’t decide which side of that issue you came down on so you mentally recused yourself.)
Dr. Kinney clicked on a pen light and looked in your eyes, up your nose and in your ears. “So far, so good,” he announced. He took your pulse. His fingers moved to your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before pinching them...over and over...all while smiling down at you with his irresistible bedside manner. “You know,” he said, “I know a little about your case; I’ve done some research, and I think I’ve determined what ails you.”
“You have?” you asked.
Dr. Kinney sighed as he gave you the news, “Yes, I’m afraid you have UFS.”
“What’s UFS?” you asked.
Dr. Kinney’s expression remained serious and over-the-top concerned as he replied, “Under-Fucked Syndrome. It’s uncommon in homosexual men your age-mostly just in young Republicans, but we still see it from time to time. Nothing to worry too much about as Mr. Taylor and I can design a treatment plan that will all but cure you.”
“Thank you, Sir. That’s very reassuring,” you offered.
“I suspected as much,” Justin said to you, “But, nevertheless, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”
“Thank you,” you replied, “But If you guys insinuate that I’m a Republican again, I will scream my safe word and leave.”
Dr. Kinney apologized, “Please forgive us. We saw the size of your trunk and assumed you were an elephant. It won’t happen again.”
Jusitn leaned forward laughing, kissed your forehead, and continued, “I had an advanced case of UFS when I met Brian, and he cured me in one night over twenty years ago.”
Brian stifled a laugh, cleared his throat and got serious again, “Well, to be fair, he requires constant treatments to keep his UFS under control. He ‘thinks’ he was cured in one night, but that delusion is an unfortunate side effect of the treatment.”
“He must have great insurance,” you added.
“We had a telethon, Dr. Kinney. Remember?” Justin asked, and when Brian didn’t immediately respond, Justin reached over the table and patted Brian’s white-coat arm, “It was a long time ago.”
“What’s a telethon?” you asked.
Justin smiled down at you, “It’s a GoFundMe for septuagenarians.”
Dr. Kinney raised an eyebrow and replied, “Be careful, Mr. Taylor, or you may find that your treatments are no longer covered by your insurance.” And when Justin smirked in response, he added, “And that there are no other providers in your area for five hundred miles.”
“I can always go out of network; I mean, I can afford it,” Justin lobbed back.
Dr. Kinney looked Justin up and down before walking to the table, picking up his clipboard and adding another tick mark to the square in the bottom right corner. That was the moment you realized what the squares were probably for and yours, thank all the gods everywhere, was still empty. You looked at Justin who was watching what you were watching and decided that he knew, too, and didn’t care one bit.
You spoke up, jingling your restrictive chains against the metal they were hooked to, “Um, this room gets kind of chilly when no one’s paying attention to me.”
Dr. Kinney set his clipboard down and turned your direction, smiling kindly again, “You make a very valid point, Dill.” He did not share that smile with Justin but he didn’t see it as he was back by your side groping you affectionately.
Dr. Kinney added, now standing between your knees, “The good news for you is that we caught this early. I’ve seen one or two hopeless situations over my career, but this isn’t one of them. The question is, will you be committed to the treatment plan?”
Justin answered for you, “Oh, he will be. Trust me.”
You nodded emphatically, making eye contact with both of them. “It’s just such a relief to know what I’m dealing with.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dr. Kinney said, “A positive attitude is half the battle.”
……
Next, Dr. Kinney examined you much more thoroughly, fucking you with his cold gloved fingers, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that maddeningly alluded you. You knew it wasn’t possible to come again and the constant stimulation felt wonderful and gross at the same time. You looked up at Justin and admitted, “I’m going to scream.”
“Frustrated?” he asked with a sly smile.
Dr. Kinney stopped, “I’m sorry. Is there a problem?”
“He doesn’t like this part of the treatment,” Justin said, winking at you. You couldn’t tell who’s side he was on anymore.
“Well, we can switch gears,” Dr. Kinney said, and Justin agreed. You exhaled dramatically. Justin unhooked your hands and pulled them forward, “Shake them out. I’m sure they need it.” As you complied, Dr. Kinney questioned you, “Have you ever had your ass plugged?”
“I have a plug at home that I’ve played with but it’s really hard to use sex toys on campus.”
“Okay.”
“I also have a urethral plug I like.”
Dr. Kinney’s eyebrow rose again, perched in uncertainty, “You sound?”
“Sometimes. The pressure is wicked.”
“Don’t you have to be really careful and use sterile lube?” Justin asked.
You nodded, “Yes, and I just have a short plug. I haven’t done the whole cock-stuffing thing.”
Brian looked at Justin, “We don’t even do that. He can teach us something.”
“He can teach you something,” Justin offered, “I’m not sticking something into my cock.”
Brian laughed, muttering under his breath, “Right, just everywhere else.”
You laughed as Justin ignored him. Dr. Kinney continued the questioning, “Ever been fisted?” as he sat himself on the stool between your legs.
“No, Sir.”
“It’s fucking amazing,” Justin informed you, and then he laughed and pointed at Brian, “I fisted him by accident just the other day.”
Brian started to chuckle, so you asked him, “Is that true?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Dr. Kinney offered, “Time to finish your examination.” Brian picked up the speculum and told you, “Um, lie back down, please. I hope you like a good stretch.” Justin focused you, “Dill, look at me and communicate so I can be sure this goes the way you want, okay?”
“Okay,” you agreed.
***********
BRIAN’S POV
You gathered Dill’s cock and balls in your hands and slipped a black rubber ring around both keeping them out of your way. Then you dipped your speculum in hot lube before carefully beginning the insertion process. Dill seemed please with that detail, his back arching as he moaned, “Oh my fucking God.”
“Like that?” you asked him.
His eyes were wide open and not blinking as he added, “Jesus, that feels so good. Oh my god.”
You hadn’t fucked this kid, so you took your time, moving incrementally as he relaxed around the hard awkward metal. He kept staring at the ceiling, and Justin pulled his eyes back to his each time. You listened to Dill but watched Justin’s face because you can read that accurately no matter what. If he looked concerned, you stopped pushing. You intended to incorporate a little pain play into the mix, but Dill’s breathing was inconsistent. With the tool about halfway inserted, you stopped and held firm. “Talk to us, Dill,” you tried.
“My mouth went dry,” he said.
Justin smiled, “You want some water?”
“Sure,” he panted.
After Justin brought him some, you tried again, “Are you uncomfortable or do you feel good?”
He rolled his head toward Justin, “I don’t have a word for this feeling, but it’s not bad.”
Justin leaned down and kissed him before making a request, “Good. I want you to look at me and listen to me.”
Dill responded, “Yes, Sir.”
You watched as Justin’s hand slithered down Dill’s torso and wrapped around his inner thigh, “This feeling you feel, let it in. Let it take over every inch of you.”
“Okay.”
You watched as Justin blindly ran his fingertip around the circumference of Dill’s hole. The kid relaxed a little more so you pushed a little more as Justin continued, “This is what floating feels like. It’s a little weird at first, but it’s going to be amazing.”
Dill looked dumbfounded, but Justin was right, and then your husband’s hand moved, his fingers folding inward because he was waving you in. You pushed a little more and got another insane moan from your patient, and a little appreciation smile from your spouse. Then Justin’s hand slid across and indicated that he wanted you to remove the rubber ring. You nodded, made sure it was super slick and rolled it off his cock and balls. Dill’s hips rose up off the table; Justin urged them back down. Dill looked desperate as he spoke, “This is...fucked up. I’m going to shoot but I know I can’t.”
Justin kept at it, “Then go ahead. Just let whatever’s going to happen...happen.”
“I can’t,” Dill tried, his voice laced with distress.
“You can,” Justin encouraged, “And you will because I told you to and you don’t disobey me.” You looked down between your legs to confirm that your cock was looking up at you. And then you watched as Justin cradled Dill’s balls in his hand and started to squeeze. “Tell Dr. Kinney that you like this,” he ordered your patient. Dill wore a confused expression, lost somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction with no ability to move in either direction. Justin squeezed even more, “Tell him now.”
“I...like...this,” Dill squeaked out before he groaned in an enviable agony as a tiny amount of fluid leaked onto his stomach. “Ah, fuck. Sir, please,” he begged Justin.
“Please what?” Justin asked.
“Mercy, please,” Dill tried again.
Justin turned, looked at you and gave you a signal to start pulling out. As you did, he worked quickly to unchain Dill’s ankles and remove all of the cuffs on his body. “Good boy,” he praised him.
“Hold still,” you warned him, positioning him on his side and holding him down. “One more temperature check. Don’t drop it.” You pretended that you got a reading you liked, and then began to wipe him clean. He held onto Justin’s torso the way a child does when he doesn’t want you to leave him at school on the first day.
“Brian, help me,” Justin requested when you were finished. You got up having shed your white coat and stethoscope, picked Dill up off the table, made a one hundred and eighty degree turn and deposited him onto the bed. You studied Justin as he walked the perimeter of the bed, got a condom from the nightstand and dispensed with his dungeon clothes. He kneeled next to Dill, “Roll over and get your ass up so I can fuck you.”
Well, good day, Sunshine…
You started stroking yourself as you joined them on the bed. Justin gave orders, telling you to sit at the head of the bed with Dill’s upper body between your knees. Justin talked shit to Dill as he fucked him, “You’re such a useful little whore, you know that?”
Dill moaned, “Yes, Sir.”
“And the amazing way you feel right now, I gave you that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, one hundred percent.”
Justin was glistening with power and purpose; you toyed with your cock some more until he tasked you with, “Hold him where he is so I can fuck the shit of the him.”
You smiled at Justin as you kept Dill pinned and gave Justin something substantial to really push against. It was one hell of a show, and when it was over, you played the role of a stagehand by dimming the lights and quietly putting everything from your medical scene away. When you laid back down with them, Dill was curled against Justin’s chest. That was when the three of you could once again clearly hear the hospital sounds still playing, only it was on autoplay at that point playing some ER track complete with chaos, trauma, gunshot wounds, wailing patients and blue codes. Dill laughed, “Wow, this is super realistic.”
“Wait til it gets to the child birth part,” you teased.
“Oh, um, no way,” Justin said, “Turn that off.”
“Yes, dear,” you said as you retrieved your phone. When you rejoined them, Justin motioned for you to grab a blanket and come in closer. Dill was nestled between you when you asked him, “You good? You nice and green?”
“Very,” Dill purred, and then he asked, “Was that thing even all the way inside me?”
“No,” Justin said.
“It was as far as it could go,” you clarified, “UFS is an evil disorder. Sneaks up on you at the most inconvenient times.”
“Brian, you crack me up. I never thought I’d get medical play and a comedy show all in one,” Dill admitted, “And I don’t even have to pay for this-“
“Well…not with money…,” you mentioned. Dill’s eye’s opened wide; you winked at him.
Justin took his opportunity, “Dill, do not encourage him.”
You laughed, “And just think, if Justin hadn’t refused to wear the nurse’s outfit I had for him, it would’ve be-“
Dill interrupted asking Justin, “Wait, was that why you threw that bag across the room when we were upstairs?”
Your partner interrupted and spoke only to you, “You are high if you think I was going to wear nothing but a shiny white patent leather jock strap and a tiny pillbox hat and be your nurse, Brian.”
“This experience was for Dill,” you pointed out, “So maybe try being a little less selfish?”
Dill’s body was reverberating with laughter between you as Justin continued to bitch at you, “And I don’t do hats. And you know that.”
“You’re so cute when you’re outraged,” you told your better half, “But calm down or I’ll have to sedate you.”
“Yeah,” Dill teased Justin, “He’s a Board Certified Assologist, after all.”
“Trust me,” Justin lobbed back, “Nobody knows that better than me. Who do you think bought him that white coat?”
“Exactly,” you pointed out, “You bought me an outfit and asked me to play a role for you and I did it...because...well, probably, because I love you or something.”
Dill smiled, “Aw, because he loves you.”
Justin was unassuaged by your affectionate declaration, “Hats and kink do not mesh for me, okay?”
“Duly noted, darling.”
Dill asked the obvious question, “How did we go from ER to divorce court? That was quick.”
Justin announced matter-of-factly, “Okay, I’ll drop the accusation and stipulate that Brian possessed no overarching motive and wasn’t trying to trigger me with cosplay.”
You jabbed Dill playfully with your elbow, “You’re right. He is a little crazy. Decades of UFS treatments clearly take a toll.”
***********
Justin spent time with Dill after the scene, helping him get settled to sleep in the theater. Dill was more than willing to sleep in the dungeon alone, but Justin refused; the idea made him queasy. While they finished up, you’d retired upstairs to begin your skin routine. As you exfoliated and began layering serum after serum, a new perspective was born, maybe because you were staring at yourself in the mirror, quietly battling back the effects of time as it took root:
Love is freedom in practice, the space between every breath, not the breath itself.
Ugh..
You slapped your face and tried to snap out of it.
The man you love, you could hear him on the stairs, even though his feet were probably bare, his presence somehow swelled ahead of him. As you killed the light and exited the bathroom, he was sliding into bed. As you joined him, there were conversation topics imminently available, but they were discarded, redundant. “Tired?” is all he wanted to know.
He meant: will you be able to sleep? because you need to…. He knew you had to get up very early and run through your presentation.
“Yeah,” you answered.
He smiled and urged you onto your back, his body melting warm on top of you. He pressed his hips against yours and ”mmmm”ed in response to your erection. You knew he was paying attention to more than just Dill in the basement; he was keeping tabs on you, too, on whether or not you’d have this for him when he was done with his new toy.
“Wanna hear something funny?” Justin asked you.
“Sure.”
“When he was getting ready for bed, Dill asked me if I’m worried about all the demerits I’m racking up-“
You wrapped your hands around his biceps, “You should be worried about the demerits you’re racking up.”
Justin wasn’t buying it, “Yeah, okay. I want to sit on your cock.”
“I’d like that,” you said, “But tease me a little, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered as you helped him take your cock in the dark under the sheets, his torso covering yours. Justin placed his fingers on your eyebrows, traced them and let them drift down over your eyelids, effectively closing them. He kissed you as his hips moved like a wave during low tide, dragging moments of intense pleasure out of their hiding places. “Tease me,” you reminded him.
“Tease yourself,” he said, so you smiled as you placed your hands on his ass and squeezed, sliding your cock in and almost out of him over and over, his moans vibrating through your skin. You get to cheat like that because he’s yours; you get to pluck out the most pleasurable nano-movement and wear it out whenever you want. That privilege feels as good as the act itself. He took over at some point and rode you until you came inside him, the longest emptying you’d ever known. You confessed when it was over, feeling far more like a patient than a doctor, “Watching you with him made me really hard.”
“I noticed that,” he said and then he kissed you for a long long long time.
You confessed further, “Somehow, I think you knew that it would.”
Justin smiled down at you as his index finger traced the edge of your face, “Maybe, but that’s a secret.”
“So what are you going to do to him tomorrow while I’m slaving away at work?” you asked.
“Um, probably a lot of whatever the fuck I want.”
With affection in your voice, you asked him, “Why did I train you so well, and how did I not see this coming?”
“Because you habitually underestimate me, Dr. Kinney. You always have.”
“I guess that’s my disorder then huh?”
Justin grinned down at you, “Yep, twenty plus years of the best suffering you’ve ever had.”
And counting...
Negotiations 45