Chapter 35
Jamie
I lie beside him, still shivering in the afterglow of my orgasm. My fingertips trace the defined lines of his abdomen as I admire his perfect body.
“Do you train in secret?” I ask.
“I run sometimes. When I was younger, I did athletics.”
“When you were younger?”
“I mean, when I was a kid.”
My fingers go further down; I caress his erection, trace its outline before wrapping my hand around the velvet-hard length. The Doctor’s chest rises sharply, a flush spreading across his collarbones.
“You don’t have to,” he says, turning to me.
“I want to.”
I move my hand with deliberate slowness, savouring the contrast between the silken skin and rigid firmness beneath.
I want to feel everything — the heat of him, the veins swelling under my grip.
The Doctor’s breathing grows laboured, his eyes half-lidded but never leaving my hand as I torment him with unhurried strokes.
The muscles in his thighs tense with anticipation, waiting for what comes next.
I push myself up and lean over his mouth.
tracing the full curve of his bottom lip with my tongue before slipping between them into welcoming heat.
He responds instantly, his tongue dancing with mine as his fingers tighten in my hair.
I break away to explore the column of his neck, my teeth grazing the sensitive hollow where his pulse hammers.
I taste salt and warmth as I trail bites down his chest, pausing at his nipple to circle it with my tongue and feel it harden beneath the wet heat.
“Oh, God…” The Doctor groans as he moves across the bed, involuntarily pushing his hips up.
I continue to go down slowly, savouring his skin and breathing in his scent; when I reach his cock, I guide it closer to my waiting mouth.
I look at the Doctor, his hungry eyes on me, losing nothing of what I’m doing to him.
I massage the tip with my thumb, spreading the wetness there.
The Doctor inhales sharply and holds that breath, and somehow I find myself holding mine too.
Without breaking eye contact, I part my lips and take him into the wet heat of my mouth.
“Holy fucking…”
I hold his cock firmly in my hand as I push it into my mouth, as far as I can and even more.
I want to feel him, his taste, mixed with his breath, his moaning, his desire that pulses now also inside me and that I want to release.
I continue to take and suck him, caressing his hip. I want the Doctor to remember this night, my taste on his tongue, my mouth on him.
And I want him to think about it every fucking day of his life.
His hands in my hair, caressing and unsettling it. He doesn’t push me against him, nor does he move his hips towards me. He lies on the bed, helpless, utterly lost in the moment, the warmth of my mouth claiming him.
He is enjoying it and wants to do it completely.
And I am the one who will give him everything he wants.
I go down deep, nearly suffocating as his cock hits the back of my throat, the salty tang of pre-cum coating my tongue. I don’t mind; the light-headed rush excites me, and my own erection stiffens against my thigh, blood pulsing hot beneath sensitive skin.
I instinctively bring a hand between my legs, wrapping fingers around my aching hardness, while I continue to suck the Doctor’s cock.
“You’re touching yourself,” he says, voice breaking into a ragged whisper that sends shivers down my spine.
I slide completely off his cock to get on my knees, giving him a clear view of my fist working slowly up and down my shaft.
“Sucking your cock drives me insane, Doctor,” I say, voice rough and low.
I let him watch as I stroke myself; his eyes narrow to hungry slits, lips parted and glistening where my tongue has wet them, each shallow breath visibly caught in his throat.
I bend over him again, his cock sliding between my swollen lips, the velvet head dragging against the roof of my mouth as I take him deeper; I speed up my movements, the twin rhythms of hand and mouth growing desperate; I can’t wait any longer.
I want to know how he comes — if he tenses or relaxes, if his voice breaks or deepens, what words spill from his lips — more obsessions to add to my endless list.
His hands on the nape of my neck, his fingers entwined in my hair, as I continue to pleasure him with my mouth and stroke my erection, waiting to savour this moment when we both surrender.
His cock sinks into my throat as I hear him say something about coming, the words dissolving into a groan.
Come for me, Doctor. That’s all I’m waiting for.
The Doctor comes and does it so divinely, his release hot and pulsing against my tongue, flooding my mouth.
He comes, saying my name over and over; he comes, falling back onto the bed, his head tipped back, throat exposed and vulnerable; he comes, eyes closed, holding his breath.
I follow immediately, my release spilling warm and thick between my trembling fingers.
On my skin and in my mind, there’s only one truth:
The Doctor wants me.
He fucking wants me.
But I want him even more.
We lie in silence on his bed, both of us sinking into the warm blur of the afterglow. There’s no embarrassment in him, only an easy, unselfconscious peace, while the World Cup final plays on a loop in my mind. Tackles, kicks, and blows echo through my head.
He’s going to say it. I already know my answer.
“Are you staying, yeah?” he asks, turning to me.
Ah, Doctor. So full of pleasant surprises — and such sad confirmations.
“I have training in the morning. I have to be up at the crack of dawn.”
“I don’t mind. I have to be up early, anyway.”
I raise my arms and cover my eyes.
“Ah, I see. You don’t do the whole ‘staying over’ thing, is that it?”
“I don’t.”
“So I’m just a one-night stand.”
“It works better this way for me.”
He throws back the covers and gets out of bed. “Forget it, Captain.” That word feels like a slap in the face this time. “You don’t owe me any explanations. You don’t owe me a thing. We’re quits, right?”
“What the hell…” I get up too. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Why do you have to react like that?”
“Are you saying I’m making a scene?”
“Fuck yes, I am! It’s not like we’re…”
“You can say it, you know. Or does that also scare you?”
“What are you even on about?”
“You know what? Leave it.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not like you. I told you that, didn’t I?”
Don’t do it, Doctor. Don’t force my hand.
Don’t make me give you up before it’s time.
“I don’t like games.”
“I’m a player.”
“Right…” He shakes his head slowly. “I feel so stupid right now. I thought you…” He exhales, long and hard. “I never learn.”
“I can’t,” is all I have to say.
“Let’s just assume it never happened.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
I can’t share it with you. Don’t you understand? I just can’t.
You can’t pull me out of this, or treat me like one of your patients, or try to save me. I can’t be whoever you want me to be. I can’t be like you.
“You should go now.”
His tone is sharp, his posture stiff. Shoulders tight, arms folded hard across his chest. He stares me down, and his eyes are no longer those of a lost little pup.
They’re the eyes of a battered, half-wild dog that grew up on the streets, learned to fend for itself, and swore no one would ever get close again.
You emptied me, Doctor, and I emptied you. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I still went ahead. I couldn’t shut the whole world out and fill myself with only you. And I can’t pour myself into you, either.
I grab my clothes and drag them on in a rush, slip through the kitchen, and head for the door. I slam it behind me and, in a heartbeat, I’m back in my own facking past.