Three weeks later
Riley slurps on his milkshake in the recliner while laughing at a new show he discovered. He reaches for a cookie on the plate and looks up at me when I enter the room.
“Hey, my favorite patient.”
“Hi, Doc,” he says around his straw. He’s wearing his new Pokémon pajamas I recently surprised him with, and he asked if he could have the matching stuffed animal, saying it would be good for emotional support during shots. His friend got one, so he needs one too. He also asked me to take his sample with a catheter, and once the plastic was sliding through his urethra, he wanted me to keep it in while I fucked him.
The doctor isn’t always the only one who’s right. At least not when it comes to us. My patient is starting to make great suggestions of his own too. He gets really sleepy after and in between therapy, so the catheter also helps with him gettingextra rest, not requiring him to get out of bed more than he has to.
“You need me to empty your Foley bag yet?”
He looks at the side of the chair and shakes his head. “No but I probably need a new catheter soon. I’ve had this one in me for three days.”
It’s only been in for one, but he doesn’t recall the other days because I put him in another coma without him knowing. He’ll see it in my notebook later when he asks me to show him again, when he’s ready to feel that other kind of high of knowing the truth.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You don’t want an infection on top of that sprained ankle.” The catheter is also good for when he needs to elevate his hurt foot, ankle, or leg. All the injuries I keep convincing him he caused himself. And I mean, he would have eventually. He is very clumsy. This only keeps him from hurting himself much worse than I do. Then he can stay put while I wait on him hand and foot, showing him how good he has it. We both do.
“No.” He takes another sip from his straw until there’s nothing left in the cup.
“Should we go downstairs?”
“Nah. I can bring everything to you so you can keep watching your show.”
“Good. I’m very comfortable here.” He hands me his empty cup and I lean down to kiss his head.
“You look it. I’ll be back in a bit and then you can catch me up on what happened this episode.”
His attention goes back to the TV and his laughter has me smiling all the way down the stairs. I gather my supplies and hurry back to him. He’s talking to the screen now, scolding the people on TV, and I laugh.
“Should we pause it?”
His expression shifts. “I . . . not yet.”
I sit on the edge of the recliner and help him take his pants off. He lifts his hips as I shove a pad under him. After I empty the bag, I wash the surrounding skin off with soap and water. His eyes are on the show still as I’m placing the syringe into the port and deflating the balloon. After all the fluid is drained, I twist at the tube, pulling it and then pressing it in.
He moans and I roll it between my fingers again before sliding it out more. I stop halfway and twist again before taking it all the way out. His teeth sink into his bottom lip and his eyes roll back.
“Can we do my sensory therapy early?”
“Of course, baby. Anything else?”
“That pressure. It’s back. You were at work too long yesterday.”
“I was.” I give him a sorrowful expression. “I have the next seven days off, though, so you won’t have to worry about as much pressure buildup.”
“I know I can relieve it myself but . . . but all this fatigue makes it so hard.”
“I know. We’re working on handling that too with more naps and vitamins.” Except they aren’t all vitamins. Some are muscle relaxers and sedatives. What he doesn’t know keeps him smiling and trusting me with his care. Him finding out later and then thinking how hard it was to live before does that too. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind helping you.”
He lets out a drawn-out breath and I get him all clean again before inserting the new catheter fresh out of the package. I move it in and out, teasing his prostate with it. The discomfort and sting adds to the pleasure spiraling in him.
I pull it back, taking away the clamp and hanging the bag on the side of the chair. He blinks up at me, sliding a hand up and down his body with his legs spreading. With a cocky smile, I lower my pants and underwear in one swoop. I get onto the chairand push the back all the way down before scooting him back to lift his knees toward his chest. The catheter tugs a little and he cries out. I pull on it with my fingers and he mewls, writhing between me and the chair. That’s when I grab his thighs, lube his hole, and shove my cock in him. I dig my nails into his hips, and he yanks at his catheter as I drive into him again. I fuck in and out, our rhythms unmatched as we both slip closer to the edge.
He has no idea how beautiful he is. His pale skin glimmering in the sunlight and the tube of the catheter stretching his velvety skin, causing it to be a deeper purple when I stroke him on the outside to add to what’s happening beneath.
His cheeks are a dusty pink and so are his pretty nipples as they harden from the cool air. I rub at one of them and he shoves his ass against me, grinding his hips with his mouth parting.
“My beautiful patient. Only I can give you this.”
