Err, this was prompted by a picture I saw on tumblr, and people wanted me to do it, so...this came out. This is probably the most PWP thing I've ever written. It's just shamelessly NSFW, haha, and there's copious amounts of porno logic. So, have fun reading? Lol.
And there's a porntastic twist at the end!
"Alfred tugged on the hem of his dress uniform, trying to pull it back down whenever it rode up as he walked. It was terribly inconvenient to have to attend to patient in such an attire, but it wasn't as if he had any choice.
It was difficult enough to break the stereotype as a male nurse—and it certainly did not help when one's boss was—
Well, when one's boss happened to be a certain man named Arthur Kirkland.
Alfred shuddered at the thought of the older doctor who made no secret of the thing that he had for men in—feminine clothing. And at the risk of losing his job to the whims of a capricious and perpetually horny old man, Alfred had begrudgingly complied. Which was the only, only reason why Alfred could tolerate tending to patients in a pink cap, awkward high-heeled pumps, and a rose-colored dress that was way way way too short and embarrassingly tight around his chest and hips, making his thighs look like they were squeezed out of a bottle of flesh-colored toothpaste.
Alfred frowned, his face heating up as he tried to pull his dress down again, trying to make it at least completely cover the rounded bump of his ass. He hated the outfit with a passion—it looked like something horny teenage girls would wear to Halloween costume parties, and not the uniform of a man who had persevered through years of nursing school, working hard to finally gain a job at a reputable hospital.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. The pay was good, and Alfred's hours weren't insane. And although Dr. Kirkland was a complete creep, not all of the doctors in the hospital were as leery and perverted and old as he was.
Nothing at all like Dr. Kirkland was the man who worked the Neurosurgery ward, a man who Alfred had already flirted with not-too-subtlety on numerous occasions. The only times that Alfred found his skimpy garment worked towards his favor were when he was in the company of that man.
Doctor Braginski, Alfred thought, the image of the tall, handsome surgeon with his shocks of beige-blonde hair and mysterious smiles in his head making him blush.
Alfred clutched the clipboard carrying sheaves of patient information close to his chest, shaking his head and willing the warmth in his face to go away. Although Dr. Braginski had shown him a share of fondness in the past—even initiating physical contact by patting Alfred on the shoulder or the back—he had no reason to believe that the handsome doctor was attracted to him in any way. Alfred sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to force out his presumably unrequited feelings. He still had a few patients left to check on, before he could go home and finally getting out of the hellish uniform and the goddamn heels.
The potential relief made Alfred motivated to finish his schedule quickly—although his speed almost made him trip and break a heel—and soon enough Alfred found himself at the last room, hand on the knob, scanning over the medical history of the final patient in his rounds.
When Alfred opened the door, however, he had no way of expecting what he was to see—nor anyway of predicting what was to happen to him.
Upon entering the room Alfred saw a lab coat and a tawny head, and shirked, recognizing the head of hair and assuming that he had perhaps interrupted the doctor in one of his appointments, or otherwise disrupted his privacy.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor, I didn't know that you were in here," He mumbled apologetically.
Alfred was about to slink out when the doctor spoke, turning one head over his shoulder and fixing the nurse with a stare that Alfred had seen all too many times before—the kind of roaming gaze that Alfred faced every time he encountered Dr. Kirkland and only affirmed Alfred's notion that the man was a complete lech.
As if to punctuate Alfred's assumption the doctor gave him a lewd smirk as he turned completely around, one hand settled on his hip while the other twirled the rubber tubing of the stethoscope between his fingers.
Alfred blushed and his eyes widened as he realized that fucking hell Doctor Kirkland wasn't wearing anything but a shirt and a tie under his lab coat holy fucking shit fuck. Alfred clapped a hand to his mouth, willing his eyes away from his boss's exposed nether region.
"I—I—Doctor, I'm sorry—"
Alfred stumbled back and moved to turn around when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and jolted, his cap almost falling off as he turned over his shoulder to look into the smiling handsome face of holy fuck holy crap Doctor Braginski.
The heavy hand remained on his shoulder but Alfred's felt something else lie about his waist, fingers stroking lightly at his side underneath the uniform.
The young nurse had been so distracted by the other man's sudden appearance that he didn't notice the half naked Dr. Kirkland approach him under his chin was seized and turned forward and his mouth was viciously assaulted, lips pried open.
Alfred tried to shirk back and pull away from the shorter man now invading his mouth, but his back only pressed up against the hard and solid bulk of Dr. Braginski, who tightened his grip around Alfred, one hand splayed across his stomach in a hold he almost thought possessive.
"Arthur," He heard Dr. Braginski whisper, voice so close to Alfred's ear that it made the young nurse swoon, "We should be moving him onto the table, yes?"
Mercifully, Arthur pulled away and Alfred took in a gasp of air as his mouth was finally freed. He felt dizzy, his head spinning from lack of oxygen and the shock of having the two doctor's so, stoking the fires of both paranoia and pleasure.
He felt Ivan's arms clutch him tighter, a thick forearm bowing down to loop under he knees, and before Alfred knew it he was being hefted up and off the floor, losing one of his pink pumps in the process. Alfred squirmed and kicked as Ivan carried him over to the room's exam table, setting the struggling nurse down on the edge of the bed. Alfred blushed deeper as he realized his dress had ridden up, and grabbed at the hem, trying to pull it down over his tightly squeezed thighs.
"W-What are you doing?" Alfred glared suspiciously from Ivan to Arthur, whose half naked form was already swinging over to where he was sitting. Alfred squeezed his thighs tighter, trying to simultaneously scoot away from the leering doctor.
Arthur leaned over, placing his hands—both of which were sheathed in latex gloves, Alfred noticed with a shiver—on the nurse's knees, not yet pulling them open but perhaps firmly encouraging Alfred to relax and let them part on their own.
The glimmer of predation in Dr. Kirkland's hazel eyes answered Alfred's questions and silenced any further ones, sight tracing up and down Alfred's body, taking in every part where the uniform hugged tightly to his body, from the contours of his chest and barely visible nipples down to the curve of his thighs squeezing out from the dress's tight hemline.
Alfred shuddered and tightly gripped the paper sheets on the exam table as Dr. Kirkland's hand ran up his thigh, tips of his fingers barely flitting under his uniform as he petted the nurse's skin.
Ivan crawled on the exam bed behind Alfred, hands settling on the nurse's hips and pulling him back until Alfred was pressing against his chest, eliciting a gulp from the younger man as massive hands tightly held him, massaging into his skin.
Dr. Kirkland, meanwhile had moved his hands from Alfred's thighs to the pairs of white buttons adorning the front of his uniform down to his waist, popping them off one by one, revealing deliciously pinking skin to the frigid air of the room. If Alfred wasn't already shivering from the wet kisses being pressed on his neck and jawline from behind, he certainly was as the cool, rubbery latex of Arthur's gloves rubbed over his taunt chest.
Ivan's big hands eventually slid from Alfred hips to his thighs, where he tugged at the hem of Alfred's dress and pulled it up, over his legs and hips until everything below the waist was exposed to the cold, sterilized air.
Arthur hummed, moving down from Alfred's exposed chest to his lower regions, running his fingers up the red, dampening fabric of Alfred's boxers, now clinging tightly to the swelling flesh underneath. He frowned, fingers dancing up and down the slight bulge as he looked up at Alfred.
"You didn't wear the underwear that I gave you, Alfred," He rubbed the bump teasingly, watching as Alfred's face contorted, sweat starting to bead on his plush cheeks.
Suddenly Dr. Kirkland grabbed Alfred's length through his underwear and squeezed, causing an embarrassingly loud cry to rip from the nurse's throat. He tried to thrash about, the pain and pleasure too much, but Ivan held him firm, fingers clenching into Alfred's sides, biting lightly on the inward curve of Alfred's neck, as if to discouraged him from moving too much. When Dr. Kirkland finally released him Alfred collapsed against Ivan, his chest heaving in little fluttering breaths as he tried to stop, so engrossed in calming himself down that he didn't fight when Arthur stripped him of his underwear.
Straightening up, partially to stretch his back but mostly to admire how attractive Alfred was, splayed and half-naked, squirming body adorable and fuckable at the same time. Smirk splitting into a grin, Arthur reached for the stethoscope looped about his neck and nudge the buds into his ears. Ivan looked up from where he was sucking at Alfred's neck, glance questioning.
"What do you say, Doctor, is it time for our patient's checkup?" But Ivan's gaze remained stoic, clearly uninterested in playing up the "doctor" scenario. That was fine by Arthur—he only really needed him to hold the wriggly nurse, in any case. He knew that Alfred wanted Ivan, and if it took Ivan to calm and seduce the young man, then Arthur could deal with that.
He crouched down a little in front of the young nurse, his own free arousal beginning to hang heavier between his legs, and took the bell of the stethoscope and pressed it to Alfred's chest, making him whine and squirm at the sudden touch. Dr. Kirkland closed his eyes for a moment and listened to Alfred's heart, as fluttering and flighty as that of a hummingbird. It quickened again as Ivan finally reached around to grab Alfred's chin, bringing the nurse's young lips against his, sucking and biting and thrusting entrance as his hand skimmed under Alfred's uniform and groped at his cock.
"Hmmm," Dr. Kirkland smirked, pressing the cold steel disc harder on Alfred's skin and bending down to listen close, "Your heart rate is speeding up."
A shiver ran up Alfred's spine as the freezing metal moved down, eventually ghosting teasingly over his nipple. Alfred groaned and whimpered as the disc pressed against the tiny numb, rubbing in small circles. He curled and flexed his toes in the too tight shoes, trying to be angry at how Dr. Kirkland had bought them at least two sizes too small, probably just to watch him squirm, the asshole—
Soon Dr. Kirkland gave up teasing Alfred with the stethoscope and let it drop down around his neck, instead choosing to lick along Alfred's collarbone, occasionally biting the hard skin. Alfred dug his remaining heel into the exam table, tearing the flimsy paper sheets, the pressure mounting in his lower regions becoming almost unbearable. And it didn't help at all that the two doctors seemed intent on teasing him, ghosting over his cock for a few moments before leaving him to wilt again in the bare, frigid air of the room.
As Alfred's whimpering soon became a constant whining drone, Dr. Braginski seemed to take pity on the deprived nurse, hands leaving Alfred's skin for a moment to tap Arthur's shoulder, causing the other doctor to look up from where he was leaving a trail of hickeys and bites along Alfred's hips and stomach.
"Don't you think he's ready, Arthur?" Ivan questioned after lightly nibbling on the shell of Alfred's ear, shushing his whines at the lack of contact as Arthur broke away from his stomach and rose to his feet.
"Very well," Arthur wiped the excess spit from the corner of his mouth before reaching forward with one gloved hand to cup Alfred's face, tilting his chin up so his glazed eyes met Arthur's, who were sharp and predatory.
"Who do you want, Alfred. You have been very, very good so far—we will let you choose." To speak truth, Arthur didn't care to penetrate the precious nurse himself. He preferred the position of the voyeur, the one who would be able to see Alfred's face contort and twist and eventually relax in pleasure.
Though, if Alfred were to pick him, he wouldn't mind all that much either.
"Who do you want, nurse?" Ivan whispered into his ear, sending the fine strands of his hair aflutter, and if Alfred's decision hadn't already been made, it definitely was now.
"I—" Alfred turned his head as best as he could, attempting to nuzzle up against Ivan's cheek, to look into those deep and sexy eyes, "I want you, Doctor—"
Ivan nodded, leaning in to kiss Alfred briefly on the lips his hands traveling over Alfred's body, rubbing circles into his trembling stomach, soothing him.
"Get him to relax, Arthur."
Dr. Kirkland hummed in response, placing on hand on the exam table next to one of Alfred's thighs as his other hand finally set to working over Alfred's cock, rubbing along the underside of his shaft, tracing over the dorsal vein and pressing lightly on the head. The surge of pleasure that suddenly ran through Alfred caused him to buck, legs kicking out and almost catching Arthur on the temple. He broke free from Ivan's mouth with a gasp, the intense panting from before coming back with a emboldened vengeance.
By that point Alfred's entire body was as pinked as his uniform, hips, stomach, neck, and shoulder covered in distinct bite marks chronicling the toll the past—half hour, hour?—-had taken on him. Alfred was past the need for preparation and foreplay—he needed the doctor in him, and he needed him now.
Thankfully, Alfred felt something long and thick probed into his mouth, Ivan's fingers pressing up against his tongue and gums, encouraging Alfred to suck and thoroughly slick them up. Alfred did so dutifully, winding his tongue around Ivan's digits and throwing in a gratuitous moan for good measure.
After a few moments of gentle sucking Ivan pulled his fingers free from Alfred mouth, trailing along his lips for a second before drawing away completely. Alfred tried to follow him but instead found himself occupied with the mouth that tasted of tea and cigarettes as Dr. Kirkland once again tongued the nurse, wet muscle gliding over his inner cheeks and flicking against the roof of his mouth. Alfred found himself so occupied with the harsh movement of the doctor's tongue and jaw that he didn't notice the fingers tracing along his soft rear end until its slick point pressed into him.
Alfred groaned and almost bit Dr. Kirkland's tongue in reaction, the older man voicing his annoyance in a soft growl as he reached down, seizing Alfred around the ankle and pulling his legs up off of the exam table, pushing them apart and up almost to Alfred's chest, giving Ivan better access to slip in a second and a third finger.
"Too bad we're not in the maternity ward," Arthur smirked as he held up Alfred's legs, warmth stirring inside him as he had a full on view of Ivan stretching the young nurse, "Stirrups would come in great handy right now."
Alfred's groans melded into steady, calmer breaths as Ivan worked him loose with thick but practiced surgeon's fingers, the digits of a man who knew all too well the inner working of them human body—
His drone of pants was broken by a loud whine as Ivan pushed against some sensitive part inside of the nurse, causing him to seize and almost break out of Arthur's grip on his ankles. Ivan caught a glance with the other doctor, who gave an affirming nod, convinced of the nurse's readiness. Ivan withdrew his fingers with some difficulty, as Alfred's innards seemed to want to follow—or, at least, try to keep the filling digits inside. Alfred stared at nothing, eyes half-lidded and dark, blinded by pleasure to the movements of the two around him, consumed only by the thought that whatever they were doing to him felt good.
Dr. Kirkland hooked his arms under the back of Alfred's knees, lifting the nurse's backside clean off the exam table. Ivan clung tightly to Alfred's body, helping to hold him as Arthur moved the waiting warmth over his length. Alfred heaved a breath and closed his eyes tight at the brushing sensation, gritting his teeth together in preparation until they ground and clacked against each other. Ivan held him up for a moment, savoring the barest of touches on the tip of his dick, before squeezing Alfred's sides and pulling the nurse down, spearing him entirely in one thrust.
Alfred's eyes flew open and his shout echoed out of the room, loud enough to rebound around the hallways outside the room, certainly rousing any other hospital staff who had not already taken note of the probable activity going on inside the room that Dr. Kirkland had specifically reserved for a personal call.
And even though Arthur was simply the voyeur with his hand stroking Alfred's cock—watching as Ivan lifted the young nurse up and down on his own, Alfred's face an explosion of pain and pleasure—it was as personal and intimate as anything the old doctor had experienced before.
Alfred's mouth was open, drool dribbling down his chin and dripping onto his collarbone, feeling the magnificent feeling of both doctors—Ivan's thickness inside him, and Arthur's frictional gloved hands on his dick—both urging him towards completion, seeking to find and press all the buttons that triggered his pleasure—"
—And that was a far as Alfred got into the movie, one he had pulled from a paper bag marked "NEVER AGAIN" tucked away in his movie library, for he had long become distracted by a familiar hot mouth on his neck and a frigid hand down his jeans.
It was the same mouth and hands as the video—which continued to play—except Alfred wasn't in that godforsaken nurse's outfit, and he was sitting on the messy old couch in his home, instead of being splayed on a exam table in a faraway hospital, waiting to be fucked. And, of course, England wasn't there.
But everything else—everyone else, was exactly the same.
"I—Ivan," Alfred moaned, his hand finding the large bulge in his pants where the Russian was working, "C-Come on, we'll miss the best part—"
Ivan chuckled, kissing the side of Alfred's head as he continued to grope him, the heat from the movie making him want the tangible, physical American sitting in his lap.
"I cannot believe that you have kept this, dorogoy. Though I must say that I am—pleased that you did."
Alfred snorted, hand rubbing over the one in his pants, almost as if he was guiding Ivan in stroking his hardened length. He heard the shouts and whines from the television set as the recorded Alfred grew closer and closer to orgasm. He heard Ivan chuckle again when the camera zoomed in, until Alfred's bliss-filled face took up the entire frame. He kissed at Alfred's neck, wondering if he would be seeing that face tonight.
"Have I ever told you how happy I was that you did this?" Ivan murmurs against his neck, nipping lightly at the skin. Alfred snorted, tilting his head to the side to give Ivan more room, space which the Russian nation quickly filled with a mesh of teeth and tongue and nuzzling nose.
"S-Shut up, Ivan. It was for a good cause," Alfred gritted his teeth, a little hiss escaping him as his pants grew far too tight for both his dick and Ivan's hand.
"Yes, I am sure that your American Red Cross would be happy to know that most of that generous donation came from the sales of this movie," Ivan's other hand came down, fingers hooking in the loops of Alfred's jeans. It had certainly been easier to negotiate Alfred's clothing when he had been wearing the dress—
"Whatever," Alfred squirmed, spreading his legs a little more from where he sat on Ivan's lap, back pressed up against the other's clothed chest, "I-I didn't think it was a good idea at the time—but now, I'm kind of glad I did it."
It was so surreal, though, to watch his own face on the screen caught in pleasure as he himself was making enthralled noises and his own obscene expressions as the real-life Ivan touched and kissed and stroked him.
Eventually, Alfred had to break contact with the recording of his flushed face and lust-lidded eyes, quickly unzipping his jeans and turning in Ivan's lap, back facing the television as he straddled the Russian nation, whose hand still happened to be stuck in his pants and wrapped around his dick.
"Hey," Alfred whispered, after Ivan had ravished his mouth for a good thirty seconds, "How about we invite Artie over, for good old times sake? Maybe you guys can put me in those stirrups this time, give me a prostate exam—"
He was silenced as a finger slipped into his mouth.