Chapter Text
The silence of the apartment was broken only by the soft, rhythmic turning of a page. You found him exactly as you’d expected: sitting composed on the sofa, a heavy medical textbook in his right hand, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
You padded across the room, a silent smile on your lips. In one smooth motion, you leaned over the back of the couch and covered his eyes with your hands, your chin coming to rest on the crown of his head.
“Guess who,” you said, your voice a low, playful whisper in the quiet room.
He didn’t startle. He simply let out a long, slow sigh. “I hope you’ve realized that I can't read with my eyes covered.”
You kept your hands in place behind his reading glasses and he didn't try to escape. “You have been reading for hours. Your eyes must be tired.”
“Hmm,” he mused, his voice a resigned rumble you could feel through your own fingertips. “Why don't you read to me, then?”
You caught his subtle annoyance. You knew he had a new patient with a rare disease and needed more information, but you were concerned he was overworking himself, as usual. So you freed his eyes, took the book from his hands, and crawled onto the sofa. You straddled his waist, sitting on his knees and facing him.
You cleared your throat and began. “Chapter 9. Zayne, don't be angry.” you feigned reading.
“If I am not mistaken,” he said, looking at you as he removed the glasses your fingers had smudged, “this book is a collection of case studies on the diagnoses and treatments for rare diseases. I don't recall it having the sentence ‘Zayne, don't be angry.’” His voice was dry, the observation delivered with the precise, unflinching clarity of a man accustomed to dealing in facts. His gaze rested on you with a weariness that wasn't truly irritation, but the deep fatigue of prolonged concentration.
You gave a small shrug. "It's the annotated edition," you quipped. "It's there if I say so."
He shook his head with a faint smile, then pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve some tension. You watched him, tossing the book onto the cushions beside him. "The footnotes are very concerned about your blood pressure." You murmured, your hands coming up to gently knead his tense shoulders.
"They shouldn't be," he said, giving your lips a small, tired peck. His hands slid up your thighs to rest on your waist. Yet his fingers brushed against something cool and foreign hidden behind your back, tucked into your waistband.
He retrieved it and held it up.
"...Where did you find a stethoscope?" he asked, his expression one of genuine curiosity.
You snatched the instrument from his hands. "Please, sir, do not touch my medical equipment," you said, adopting a tone of exaggerated professionalism as you draped the stethoscope around your neck. "I believe there is something wrong with your heart. That must be why you are in a bad mood."
He let out an amused huff. "So you want to give me a check-up."
You nodded, your fingers moving to unbutton his black shirt and reveal his toned chest. "Yes, sir…" You lingered on the word, placing the cold metal chestpiece of the stethoscope directly over his heart.
A hum of amusement vibrated under your fingertips. “Practicing without a medical license is what you are doing.”
You gave his right pectoral a light, chiding push. “Don't worry, I have my contacts.” you insisted, maintaining your serious charade as you pretended to listen intently.
He laughed then, a warm, low sound. “Even your contact at Akso Hospital won't help you.” His hands slid to the small of your back, his touch growing idle and possessive. “You’re currently keeping him pinned down on the sofa.”
You dramatically ignored his point, your expression one of exaggerated concentration. “Would you please breathe in, Sir.”
His chest rose and fell in a long, deliberate breath, his emerald eyes fixed on your face, tracing the curve of your smirking lips. “What's your diagnosis, Doctor?” he asked, his voice a whisper.
You let your finger trail a slow path across his chest, then down the defined plane of his abdomen. “Elevated heart rate, high body temperature…”
His muscles tensed subtly, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to watch your finger tracing his skin. “What else?” he prompted, his voice tighter.
“A more thorough check-up is needed to determine the other symptoms,” you declared, your hand pausing just above the waistband of his trousers, your gaze lifting to meet his in a silent challenge.
“You…” he murmured, the word catching in his throat as your hand slid lower, cupping his manhood through the fabric.
You could feel him twitch eagerly beneath your touch, your little game clearly having its intended, profound effect.
“That… isn’t typically examined during a check-up.” His voice was strained, breathy.
You smiled, your hand applying a gentle, deliberate pressure. “You are such a unique patient. Your check-up requires… special techniques.”
His own hands slid beneath the waistband of your trousers, cupping your buttocks and squeezing firmly, drawing a low, responsive hum from you. “I see,” he murmured, his own touch turning investigative. “So, how exactly will you examine me?” In one smooth motion, he pulled your body flush against his, the sudden movement making your chest fall against him.
You found your face hovering just inches from his. He smiled before capturing your mouth in a deep unhurried kiss, a soft exploration, but it quickly deepened under the weight of the tension you’d both been weaving. His right hand slid from your back to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your jawline as he tasted you with a newfound hunger. The clinical pretense evaporated, leaving only the raw, intimate truth of the moment.
Your own fingers tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The world narrowed to the feel of his lips moving against yours, the hot slide of his tongue, the faint, clean scent of his skin. A wanting sound vibrated in his chest and you swallowed it, your breath mingling in a rhythm that was anything but professional.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. "This is your clinical method?" he murmured against your pulse point, his voice a dark, velvet rasp, "unless you provide a warning, it's easy to… stimulate the patient.”
You laughed, a breathy, inviting sound as your hips rolled against his, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal. “I am sorry, Sir. This is my first day on the job.” you purred, the lie sweet on your tongue. You reached up and slowly removed the stethoscope from your own neck, letting the cool tubing slither through your fingers before tucking the device into the waistband of his trousers.
The sudden, intimate chill of the instrument against his skin made him shudder, a sharp intake of breath hissing between his teeth. “I suppose you are not truly familiar with the process yet.” He kissed you again, deep and consuming, pressing himself more firmly against your core. “Do you need someone experienced and reliable to guide you?”
You gasped, your voice trembling with desire. “Who might be so nice to take care of me?”
“You said you had a contact earlier…” he murmured against your lips, his own breath uneven. “He just so happens to be available.”
Zayne’s hands gripped your thighs and he rose from the couch, lifting you with him as he stood. You instinctively locked your arms around his neck, your bodies pressed together as he carried you with determined strides toward the bedroom.
“Oh, lucky me,” you cooed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck to leave a bite.
His steps were slow but purposeful. “Compared to verbal instructions, hands-on demonstrations result in faster learning.” He reached the bed and lowered you to sit onto the mattress. “You're ready?”
You nodded, your breath catching.
“Alright, let’s get started.” He took off his unbuttoned shirt with a slow, deliberate movement, the fabric whispering away from his body.
You watched in awe, your teeth sinking into your lower lip at the sight.
He smiled proudly at your expression. “I am your attending physician, Dr. Zayne.”
The roles had reversed.
You sat up on the edge of the bed, your hands resting on your thighs. Your gaze traveled a slow, deliberate path up his torso, pausing on the glint of the stethoscope tucked into his belt, before finally meeting his focused green eyes. “Good evening, Dr. Zayne.” You said, your tone a veneer of politeness.
He stood right in front of you, his tall figure towering over you and sending shivers down your spine. “According to your medical records, you need to undergo a mandatory physical examination.” He paused, placing a finger beneath your chin and lifting your face to his. “You must follow my instructions to ensure it is completed in an efficient manner. Do you understand?” His voice dropped lower on the final question, and you swallowed hard, the sheer dominance in his tone shooting a spike of heat straight to your core.
“Yes, Dr. Zayne.”
“Excellent.” He took the stethoscope from his belt and hooked it properly around his neck. “We’ll begin with the most basic vitals: heart rate and breathing. Would you please turn around and remove your shirt?”
“Of course.” You offered a knowing smile, shifting to kneel on the mattress and turning your back to him. With deliberate slowness, you arched your spine as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, letting it fall on the bed.
He gently brushed your hair aside, settling the strands over your right shoulder. You felt the warmth of his breath ghost along the left side of your neck. “Please, tell me if any of my actions make you uncomfortable.”
“Yes, Dr. Zayne.” You reassured him.
“I’d like to ask you to relax.” His hands moved with practiced efficiency, unclasping your bra and discarding it beside you. “I need to check your heartbeat. Don’t move.” The cool metal of the chest piece pressed against the heated skin of your back, drawing a shiver from you. “Take a deep breath… hold it. Good.” His left hand came to rest at the side of your neck, his thumb stroking a soft, soothing rhythm against your pulse point. “Your heart rate is higher than usual. Are you nervous, or… is there another reason?”
You let out a soft laugh. “I am not nervous.”
His hand slid to the front of your throat, his fingers applying a gentle, possessive pressure just below your jaw, a touch that made your core clench with sudden, empty longing. “Your body has never lied to me,” he murmured.
You drew a careful breath. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Dr. Zayne.” You replied, your voice thick with undisguised lust.
“Mmm,” he hummed, a low, considering sound. The stethoscope was withdrawn, its metal now warm from your skin. “Now, I am going to test your exteroceptors.”
You turned your head slightly, offering a playful, questioning smile. “And how will you do that?”
He planted a soft kiss on your lips, his hand gently cradling the nape of your neck. “In the absence of standard medical equipment, logically speaking, we can make use of certain available items.” He walked to the wardrobe and slid open a drawer. A very specific one actually, the one where you two stored all your toys, all the equipment to satisfy your shared kinks.
He retrieved something with a smirk. “For example…” He turned, holding up his selection. “Here’s a ballpoint pen.”
You raised an eyebrow, then let out an incredulous laugh. “What is a pen doing in there?”
He chuckled as he positioned himself behind you again. “I don't know, but don’t underestimate small things… Close your eyes.”
And you did, straightening your kneeling posture in blind anticipation.
You felt the smooth, cool tip of the pen trace a slow, deliberate line up your spine, from the small of your back to the nape of your neck. A soft whimper escaped you. “Ah… Zayne.”
“Your responses reveal how sensitive you are,” he noted, his voice a clinical murmur. Then you felt a subtle shift in the air and the faint chill of his Evol. The pen, now frosted, trailed back down your spine, tracing each vertebra with a line of exquisite, icy precision.
The frozen trail made you shudder violently, your back muscles tensing almost painfully. Your voice cracked on a gasp, the sensation overwhelmingly sharp and electric.
You felt the mattress dip with the weight of his knees as he settled closer behind you. Then came the warmth of his mouth against your left shoulder. His tongue left a wet, teasing trail up the side of your neck before his teeth sank in, a sharp, possessive bite that made you hiss before your body melted into him.
His hands began a slow exploration of your sides, circling you from behind until his fingers found the zipper of your trousers. The deliberate, intimate touch made you tremble, and you felt the curve of his smirk against your skin.
“Why are you trembling?” he teased while pulling your body back firmly against his, his own arousal pressing hard on your lower back as he began to slide your trousers down your thighs. “Your breathing has quickened as well.”
You lifted your hips, helping him remove the fabric along with your underwear, leaving you bare and utterly exposed to his lingering, clinical gaze and the heat of his body behind you. Your hands came up behind your head, your fingers threading into his hair to give it a soft, encouraging tug. “Come here.”
He smiled, a slow, knowing expression, and shifted to lean back against the headboard, settling comfortably against the pillows. You climbed over him, straddling his waist. “So, what’s your diagnosis, Doctor?” you breathed, before sealing your lips over his in a deep, languid kiss. Your hands wandered over the plains of his chest as his own found your breasts, his touch reverent and possessive.
He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips. “Perhaps it’s because your body is well aware of what will happen next.” He kissed you again, slow and deep. “Your heart will race…” Another kiss, softer. “And endorphins will be released in large quantities…” His hands slid down your sides, mapping the curve of your waist, your hips. “There will be no need to speak. Your body will tell me everything I need to know.” He cupped your sex and you moaned when his fingers lingered at your soaked entrance.
The sound of his ministrations was so obscenely wet, that a flush of heat crept up your neck. “Zayne… I need you,” you breathed, your hips rocking restlessly against his touch.
He hummed, a low sound of satisfaction, and slowly withdrew his hand. He raised it between you, his fingers glistening in the soft light. “See? This right here…” he murmured, his gaze holding yours as he brought his fingers to his lips. “It’s telling me you’re ready.” He tasted you deliberately, his tongue cleaning the evidence with a slow, savoring drag that made your breath catch.
You whimpered at the brazen display, his boldness sending another sharp thrill through you. “Fuck… You are too much.” you managed, your voice thick with desire. You started stroking at his erection, too impatient to wait anymore.
His head fell back with a thud on the headboard. “He says he’s also ready.”
He helped you lining up with his length and then watched you lower yourself onto it. He was big, the intrusion gave you a delicious, stretching sting as he filled you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders as a ragged curse slipped past your lips.
He soothed you instantly with deep, languid kisses and a steadying hand that stroked up and down your back. "Be patient. Don't rush… Just relax." His voice was a low murmur, filled with such palpable care that it made your heart clench. You managed a shaky nod, focusing on the warmth of his mouth and the grounding pressure of his hand, letting the initial intensity melt into a deep, all-consuming fullness.
“I love it.” You breathed out, starting to roll your hips on him.
“I love you.” He said back, circling your back with his right arm to press you flush into his body and then thrusting up to match your rhythm.
You moaned but the sound got swallowed by his lips on yours, his tongue savoring every breath. Your movements got sloppier and he noticed, so he gave you a hard thrust before rolling over you. “Let me take control.” His voice was steady and commanding.
“Please Doctor, make me feel good.” You whimpered. “Please, I need more.”
Your pleading sent a shock down his spine, his cock twitching inside you. “Begging like that…” he gasped, his voice strained with his own restraint. He slowly withdrew from you, leaving you aching and empty. “Turn around.”
And you obeyed instantly, the command sending a fresh thrill through you. You shifted, turning onto your hands and knees, your back arching naturally as your forearms braced against the mattress, presenting yourself to him in complete, trembling surrender. You felt his hard cock sliding between your folds again. “Don't be nervous. This is a standard therapeutic technique.” And then he entered you again, earning a low moan from you.
His hands found your hips, his grip tightening to a possessive, almost bruising pressure as he set a relentless, driving rhythm. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body forward, forcing sharp, breathless gasps from your lips.
Your mind dissolved into a white haze of pure sensation. Uncontrollable moans tore from your throat, and tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your cheeks. You came once, a shuddering wave that clenched around him, but he didn't stop. He only picked up his pace, his movements turning feral, like a beast consumed.
A guttural growl ripped from his chest as he felt your inner walls spasm around him again. But then you felt the sudden chill of thin shards of ice beginning to crystallize along his forearms where they braced against you.
The cold bite of his power against your feverish skin jolted you back to awareness. You shot your left hand back, fingers closing in a bruising grip around his frozen wrist. "Zayne." His name cracked from your throat, raw and anchoring.
He flinched, the sound and your touch snapping his focus back to you. He cursed, a ragged sound of self-reproach, his rhythm faltering into something desperate and erratic. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, the apology choked. His free hand came to your nape, gently guiding you up and back until you were flush against his chest, held upright on your knees.
"Don't be." you managed, your grip on his wrist still iron-tight, your nails leaving half-moons in his skin, a plea to stay with you as he regained control of his Evol.
His right hand slid from your hip to press firmly against your lower abdomen, the intimate pressure wringing a loud, ragged curse from you. It heightened everything, focusing the pleasure to an almost unbearable point. "Yes… Feel it." he groaned into your ear, his voice thick with shared intensity, his hips still rocking you.
It was too much. Your vision blurred at the edges, your muscles locking in a painful, exquisite rigidity. Then, in an instant, the coiled tension inside you shattered and you squirted with a loud moan. Your pussy was gripping his cock in a delicious vice, it made him growl and finally come inside you. He was still pressing hard on your stomach, his hips thrusting slow until you came down from your high.
You were trembling and he was completely spent. Your body went limp against him, a boneless weight as the final aftershocks rippled through you. Your lungs burned, desperately dragging in air, and your hand finally released its fierce grip on his still-chilled wrist.
“Wow…” you managed to breathe out, the word a ragged, awestruck sigh.
He laughed softly, the sound warm and rich with satisfaction. He gave your belly a gentle, proprietary tap. “Good girl.” he praised, his voice a low rumble of approval against your ear. Then, with careful tenderness, he helped you ease down onto the mattress.
Your juices mixed with his release started dripping down your thighs, he watched with a smirk and then his fingers pumped it back inside you. The intimate, possessive gesture made you blush with embarrassment. “Zayne…” you whined, hiding your face against the pillow.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pulled you into a tight spoon against him, his strong arms wrapping around you. “Keep it there, consider it medicine.” He murmured, nuzzling your hair.
You groaned and slapped his arm around you. “You are so nasty.”
He smirked against the crook of your neck, placing a soft, apologetic kiss there. “Sorry… sometimes I can’t help it.”
Cocooned in his warmth and a pleasant exhaustion, you relaxed fully into his embrace. You dozed off without intent, and he made sure to tuck a blanket over you before settling beside you.
You were awakened by a delicious smell in the air, the rich aroma of your favorite dish being prepared in the kitchen. You stretched, savoring the sweet ache in your muscles, and noticed he had cleaned you up while you slept. Always so attentive.
Wrapped in the blanket, you padded toward the kitchen and found him at the stove, smelling fresh from a shower.
“How are you feeling?” you asked, hugging him from behind.
He let out a soft huff. “If you still have the energy to think about it, it’s my fault.” He turned off the stove and faced you, pulling you into a proper hug. “I’m good. Thank you, Doctor.” He kissed you fondly.
“Weren’t you the Doctor?” you smiled against his lips.
“I’ve got myself an apprentice,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners with quiet amusement. “Still… where did you find that stethoscope? It’s not mine.”
You looked at him in genuine confusion. “I stole it from your office at the hospital?”
He let out a soft, amused laugh, shaking his head. “That must be Grayson’s.”
“Oops…”
“So,” he murmured, drawing you closer, “you’ve stolen medical equipment from a public hospital. You are a criminal.” He kissed you again, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his own filled with awe. “And I love being your partner in crime.”