“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 liein 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?”
