“Oh, my fucking goodness.” Moor laughed even harder, holding his stomach as if Des had said something so funny. But instead, his ego was bruised. He was that bad. The man thought he was a damn joke.
“You don’t have to laugh at me,” Des snapped. “You could simply tell me where I need to improve.”
Des growled and kicked the man in the leg when he continued to laugh. Then Des crawled out of bed, grabbed the blanket, and wrapped it around himself. Spotting the bathroom, he hurried inside, slamming the door before he screamed, “Asshole!”
SCENE II
OTHELLO
Othello didn’t know when he’d laughed so hard that his stomach hurt. He really enjoyed fucking with the little doctor. He never knew a man smart enough to be a surgeon could be so naïve. Othello wiped his tears, got out of bed, and dressed in his robe. Last night, he had been so tired he had forgotten all about the doctor sleeping in his bed, or he would have slept on the couch. Othello pulled back the bedroom drapes and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Meanwhile, the little doctor emerged from the bathroom wearing an oversized shirt belonging to Othello.
“Why do you always like fucking with me?” the little doctor asked, yet his face reddened in the most adorable flush.
“Because it’s fun,” Othello said, unashamed. “You make it easy. You haven't changed in six months. For the record, if we had fucked last night, I’d be the one on top, and Doc, you should know how big my dick is.”
“How would I know? I didn’t look when you were in the hospital,” he said, crossing his arms.
“We can easily rectify that mistake.” Othello waggled his eyebrows, smirking.
“Nope, that’s okay,” he said, as his eyes drifted down to Othello’s crotch.
The corner of his lips curled in a pleasurable smile at how long the man’s eyes stayed on the imprint of his sleeping beast covered by his robe.
“If you keep staring at it, you might wake up the beast, and then you’d have to put him back to sleep,” he teased. “But I warn you now, he likes to go all day long.” Othello dropped his voice and licked his lips, leaving no questions about what he meant, making the little doctor blush even more, turning as red as a tomato.
However, his embarrassment didn’t stop him from glaring at Othello. “Will you stop with the teasing?” he said, pulling up the collar of his shirt and hiding his face.
“I’ll try.” He smiled. “You look good in my shirt, by the way.”
“Um...I don’t know where my clothes are and...” he explained shyly.
“I put them on the sofa,” he said, cutting the doctor off and pointing to the large black-and-gray couch that was large enough to fit two big men of his build.
“Oh, thank you.” He went over to grab them. “I should get changed.”
“You don’t have to, but do as you wish,” Othello told him. “If you want to brush your teeth, there are extra toothbrushes in the second drawer of the bathroom counter.”
The doctor nodded, turned, and went back into the bathroom while Othello went to see what he could make for breakfast. A few minutes later, he returned, dressed in his clothes from the night before.
“Since I know you were fucking with me, can you tell me how I ended up in your bed?”
Othello paused his search for breakfast ideas, turned, and observed the doctor with his rumpled hair, which seemed as if he didn’t even try to tame its wildness, a stark difference from the night before. The doctor looked every bit confused, making it hard for Othello to fuck with him, so he told him the truth. “You got into a fight with someone you shouldn’t have in my club, and I had one of my guys bring you up here to sleep it off.”
The little doctor groaned, covering his face. “Fuck, this is why I drink at home. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good. I smoothed things out with the other guy.” Othello walked by him. “Sit tight while I get cleaned up.”
“No, I should leave. I’ve already caused you enough trouble.” He went to move, but Othello stopped him and sat him down.
What the holy fuck am I doing?his brain screamed at him, but still he ignored it. “It’s no trouble. I’ll be out in a bit and make you something to eat to help with your hangover.”
“You...” the doctor started.
“Enough,” Othello interrupted. “Think of this as payback for not letting me die on the operating table.”
“I was only doing my job,” Doc Des mumbled. “So you really don’t have to do this.”
Othello ignored the man and went into the bathroom. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he was keeping the doctor around. If the man wanted to leave, he should let him. After freshening up, he walked back into the main room to see the doctor sitting at the large kitchen island. Othello took the time to observe the other man and noticed that besides his new look, there was something off with the doctor. Six months ago, when he met him, there’d been a confident air around him, but now he seemed defeated and sad. Othello wasn’t the kind of guy to pry into business that wasn’t his, but this time, he wanted to know for some odd reason.
