More important than A/N: First off, a huge shout-out to Elise Davidson, a very talented writer, and if you haven't read her stories, do so now! You can read this fic later. Go! She gave me a fricking great review; one that made me feel warm and fuzzy (not in a creepy way), and now I'm not nearly as upset with the third chapter as I was. Second, my internet was on the fritz for several days, a truly horrible occurrence for me, and it went down a couple of hours before I finished this chapter... Oh, how I love the little things in life that fuck with me.
A/N: (I don't think any amount of flames could get me to not write these unnecessary things (and yeah, I am challenging you)) This isn't a very dramatic chapter; I wanted something more lighthearted, but I'm pretty sure the tone of this story will vary quite often as I'm manic depressive and I allow free rein of my mood swings when it comes to what I write. Things are vaguely explained in a flyby style, and I'll get into more detail in later chapters. It's mostly my attempt to wrangle JD and Cox back into character because I feel I've gotten a little OOC, and I think there's a 50/50 chance that I actually accomplished that. Dr. Cox was amazingly easy to write in this one, which makes me nervous, and it's a little heavy on the amount of inner JD monologue, maybe too much so.
All in all, I'm neutral towards this chapter and that makes me a lot happier than it should...
Disclaimer: Not MINE! (Look! I wrote a short sentence! Ah crap, I just ruined it.)
Warnings: Graphic… goofy slash? Oo And a warning I should have given earlier on: This fic is going to continue to get even more graphic, as much as I can possibly manage; it's basically just written porn with a little plot thrown in... Okay, maybe the plot has bitten me in the ass, but I am a pervert; I like writing it and I love reading it. So, it you don't like slash sex, I have to ask... what the hell is wrong with you? (and no, I didn't type all this to buffer my word count, it's a one-time thing)
Italics – JD's thoughts
Bold – JD's daydreams
Chapter Four
It is a very unusual sensation to feel like you are rapidly losing your grip on sanity. I have always heard that when this happens, the person is not aware that they are going crazy. It's funny how some of your assumptions are thrown out when you actually experience a psychotic break for yourself.
I stare out the window to my left; taking in the pale blue sky; the scattered white clouds; and the gently swaying branches of what I now consider my tree.
Okay, so maybe I am just a little bit possessive...
Recently, I find myself clinging mentally to any inanimate object that I know to be real.
I'm strapped to the bed and can't leave this room... fact. There is a tree outside the window of this room... fact. Therefore, the tree I see is real... Right? But what if what I perceive as fact is not real? What if I'm not really-
I shake my head and sigh. I could continue to chase the dubious nature of my perceptions until I am jumping at shadows, but I am resolute about enjoying myself today and taking whatever comes at face value.
My neck is sore from holding this awkward position for so long, but I refuse to turn my head away from the scenery and look up.
I am not going to stare at the fucking ceiling anymore!
Aside from my somewhat hostile and scattered thoughts, I'm actually in a very good mood this morning. The restraints were going to be taken off finally, and even though I will have to be under constant supervision, I get to leave my pris-, uh, room.
The past few weeks had passed in a confusing blur. I don't remember very much of it, and what I do recall is not at all pleasant. The broken remnants that float up into my consciousness are of my panic-drenched struggles against the nylon shackles and my failure to stop yelling at the top of my lungs to be released. I think that I spent a lot of the time heavily sedated...
I feel normal right now and in control of myself. I am, however, curious as to why my arms hurt as much as they do, and why there is heavy bandages wrapped around them. I shrug and go back to studying the view outside my window, as I wait for a nurse or doctor or just anyone to come and turn me loose. I hope they get here soon.
The desire to move is really driving me insane...
My elevated mood isn't only due to my impending freedom. I have been tentatively diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder by the hospital's clinical psychologist, and because of my recent violent behavior, my psychiatrist has already gone ahead and prescribed me with an antidepressant and antipsychotic regiment. I'm really not sure about taking either one. I have never considered myself to be depressed; and the possible severe, sometimes even fatal, side effects of antipsychotics make me just a little uneasy.
A myriad of tests still need to be run to confirm the diagnosis, and since the condition is relatively uncommon, my psychiatrist is practically chomping on the bit at being able to study a case of it personally.
My feelings towards her have become rather homicidally bent...
I stand on the rocky outcrop of a cliff overlooking a barren wasteland.
A segment of twine is wrapped tightly around my gloved hands, and I fight against the weakening pulls that originate from the other end.
The ground is breathtakingly far below, and I give a giddy laugh at the dizzy sensation the high elevation causes, before turning to my fettered prey.
It is my psychiatrist. The thin cord that trails from my grip is bound taut enough around her wrists and ankles to cut into the skin, and her heels are dug into the powdery, red-tinted dirt in an attempt to keep from moving any closer.
"Well, shrink," I spit the word out at her as I hedge cautiously around to the back of her, "what do lemmings do so well?"
I unravel the twine from my hold.
"Lemmings tend to incur mass drowning while attempting migra-"
"No! No, they jump off of ledges, damn it!"
With that said, I shove her protesting form to the brink, and she tumbles over the edge.
I hurry closer to peer down as a piercing shriek swiftly fades away into the distance, and I smile widely when it cuts off completely; imagining the thud of impact.
Ah, her death... Now that is a happy thought.
The grin tugging up on the corners of my mouth turns into a pleased smile as I hear the door to my room swing open, and the various sounds of the hospital filter in before it snicks shut once more.
"Great morning!" I call out in an excessively cheerful voice. I roll my head to face the other direction and my body seizes up; my breathing halts.
Damn it! It's been almost a day since the last time I had a hallucination. They might change their minds about letting me go! But that's only if I say anything about it...
"Hey, Dr. Cox." I relax and resume my intake of oxygen.
"Hey, Newbie." The other man looks extremely uncomfortable, and examines me closely with his gaze. "How are you feeling?"
"Awesome." I beam at him, and then drop my voice down in a secretive manner. "I think the pills are working." Opening my eyes wide, I nod at him with a serious expression and manage to keep my lips from twitching upwards.
For a few moments, at least, before the way too joyful and vaguely creepy look that has become commonplace for me returns to my face.
"Great. Great, great, great..." Cox mutters in a put upon, absentminded tone. He grimaces slightly and slowly approaches my bed.
"You know... you were a lot more talkative on the roof when you," I raise my hands as high as I can, a few inches at best, and make quotation marks with my index and middle fingers, "'comforted' me."
"On the roof? What are you talking about?" He frowns at me as he continues. "Beelzebub only reinstated me as of yesterday. And I sure as hell wouldn't have 'comforted' you, Janice." He mimics the quotation marks back me; only his are given at the same height as his head.
I growl.
He's mocking my inability to lift my hands up! How dare he!
"I don't even want to be dreaming about you right now. Go away." I glare at him and then close my eyes; only to snap them back open immediately. Leering in the most seductive way I can manage with my paler than normal, sallow features; I tilt my head and lift one eyebrow. "Unless... I don't know how you feel about bondage, but I've had these fantasies where-"
"Listen up, Newbie!" Dr. Cox speaks sharply and cuts me off.
I shut up and watch him expectantly.
"This is na-ot a dream. Nor is it a hallucination, delusion, vision, mirage, a figment of your imagination, or a twisted nerdy fantasy of my-, admittedly extraordinarily handsome and masculine in a way a woman like you just cannot resist, self. I am act-tu-al-ly, God help me,physically here."
"Sure you are, Dr. Cox." I wink at him, smirking when he scowls and runs a hand down over his face in exasperation.
I would never be able to act this way if he was real...
"Whatever, Kelli. Let's get your scrawny ass out of those restraints."
"Hey! I have a very nice ass and you know it. It's like mutton, I tell you. Mutton!" I state indignantly and with only a hint of defensiveness.
I am ignored.
He begins loosening the straps on my right wrist, and quickly the binding is off of me. The others soon follow and I'm free at last.
Giving a groan of pleasure, I instantly attack the skin on my left calf with my nails and scratch vigorously.
"Oh yeah. Oh God... that feels so good. Ooooh..." I issue a shuddering moan as the itch fades away into a satisfying burning sensation, and I let myself fall back onto my pillow; gasping for breath.
I glance over at Cox. He appears… disturbed.
"If it was your intention, Antoinette, to give me nightmares for the rest of my natural-born life, you have def-ef-fin-nit-ly succeeded. Congratulations, I know this is a big moment for you there, Newbie."
I snort lightly in amusement and push myself back up into a sitting position. My back and neck pop, tingling, as I contort my body around in bizarre stretches to ease the dull ache that has settled into my muscles. I might also be doing it to show off my flexibility just a tiny bit...
I sigh in contentment when I finish, but my attention is now becoming focused on the shooting pains that lace up my forearms at my movements.
My eyebrows draw together in puzzlement as I stare intently at the top of my swathed arms, and then flip them over to look at the bottom. Unable to gain any insight by analyzing the plain, white dressing; I look up at Dr. Cox questioningly.
"What happened to my arms?" I raise said limbs into the air in front of me, as if to specify exactly what I was talking about. I watch as his lips tighten together, and the lines around his eyes deepen as they narrow. He is obviously not pleased.
"Goddamn it... that shrink of yours never explained that to you? All of the supposed medical specialists around here are incompetent idiots." He looks angrily at the wall above me, before lowering his eyes back down to meet my inquiring gaze. "You tried to kill yourself."
I scoff.
"I'm not suicidal. I wouldn't do something like-"
He interrupts me by merely talking louder to cover up my own words.
"You got a hold of a scalpel and cut, to the bone in some parts, from the inside of your elbows down to your wrists. Of course, your right arm does look like a three-year-old had been playing surgeon with it... You got a little messy and apparently needed more than one pass. I have to admit, though, you were pretty darn thorough." His lackadaisical words do not match his agitated appearance at all.
"You've seen the wounds?" My tone is muted; barely above a whisper.
"I took a look at them yesterday morning. You were still doped up to the gills."
I feel queasy as I stare blankly at the damaged appendages, and I try to prevent myself from hyperventilating.
Oh God. Why did I do something like that?! I don't remember doing that! I don't even like when other people hurt me...
My throat feels dried up, like it is coated with cotton, and I clear it noisily.
"Uh, when did I do this?" I can't seem to tear my eyes away from my self-inflicted injuries.
"Three weeks ago. An intern took a late night break and found you up on the roof. You were clinically dead for two minutes before the attending on-call was able to revive you and get enough blood back into your body to keep it going."
I can sense his keen observation, as if two drills are boring into the top of my skull, but I don't look up at the other man. My mind is racing.
"You mentioned the roof, Newbie. Do you remember anything?"
I remain silent; I really don't think I can speak at the moment.
John Dorian is actually speechless. That's something you don't see everyday...
"Were you thinking about me?" His tone is deliberately casual, and not suited for the importance of those words to me.
Was I? I know I was before, but when I...? Did I try to kill myself because...? Damn it! I have no memory of it! I don't know.
"I don't know." I respond truthfully and glance up at Dr. Cox, hoping he won't berate me for the non-answer.
I'm happy when he just nods like that is all he had expected me to say.
"Alright kid, I think you've been confined here long enough."
The effect is almost instantaneous; like a light switch being flipped and I find my morbid thoughts shoved out of the way by the pure, excited yearning to leave this tiny room that surges through my entire body.
"Oh God yes." Without delay, I scoot to the side of the bed and swing my legs over.
He awkwardly helps me stand, seeming to try to touch me as little as possible, but then decides on gripping the bicep of my right arm firmly to steady me. I waver from side to side for a minute, attempting to regain my equilibrium after spending so much time lying down.
"Ooo, head rush..." I shake my head, laughing quietly at the vertigo. I'm delighted and relieved that it only feels as though I have a normal, bearable headache.
Trying to pay no attention to the distractingly-warm touch on my arm, which I am struggling not to lean into purposely; I ponder where I would like to set off for first.
Hmm, I want to go outside and get some fresh air...
My eyes glaze over and take their gradual, sideways path up towards the ceiling.
For once, Dr. Cox remains completely silent.
A cool, sweet-smelling breeze blows through the trees; rustling the leaves to create a tranquil and peaceful ambiance throughout the entire park.
I take a deep breath and then sigh in contentment; turning to look at Perry.
He offers me a tender smile that I immediately mirror back at him.
All of a sudden, he stops looking into my eyes and whips out a red and white, checkered blanket that he arranges neatly onto the luxurious, vibrant grass. A large picnic basket soon follows and is placed on top of the soft fabric, along with a six-pack of peach daiquiris.
We sit down next to each other and Perry wraps his arm around my shoulders to pull me up snugly against his side. My eyes slide shut in satisfaction and I lean my head over to tuck it under his chin.
Ah, complete bliss...
I come back to myself and refocus my attention on my mentor; a dreamy expression clouding my features.
"Can we go to the park for a picnic, Dr. Cox?"
"No, we will not."
Damn it!
--
Even when you have an illness, some things at Sacred Heart never change. Like Dr. Kelso's lobotomized sense of compassion and his halfhearted ritual of breaking down Ted's spirit...
Dr. Cox had refused my requests, well, pleas to go outside of the building; stating that I was not allowed to exit the interior of the hospital. He also added that he would carry me back to my room and tie me to the bed himself if I did try to leave...
He was a little disgruntled when I told him I liked that idea.
I have managed to get as far as the Admissions lobby without protest, and I am currently people-watching with an intensity I rarely put forth.
I can't believe I forgot how boring patients are...
My interest quickly abandons all of the sick or injured inhabitants to center on Dr. Kelso, who is standing at the counter and flipping through paperwork. Ted is off to the side of him, staring blankly ahead, with his briefcase curled loosely in his hand.
I unconsciously make up my mind to advance in that direction and I'm already halfway to the two men before I realize it.
"Ted?" Kelso's voice is, as usual, insincerely friendly. "About the teenage mother that's suing us... how is the case report coming along?"
"Well, sir, it's-" Ted tries to answer him and is immediately cut off.
"Apparently, Ted, you misunderstood me once again. I do not care about anything you have to say. Your opinion is completely worthless, as are you, and I never, under any circumstances, want to hear it."
"But, sir, you asked-"
"Ted, I was just making small talk. Ah, Dr. Dorian. It is good to see you out and about. How are you feeling, Sport?" The senior doctor pivots on his heel to face me as I approach.
"Well, I'm doing a lot bet-" I'm not even sure why I try to reply. Habit maybe.
"That's great, Sport. Hopefully you'll be back to practicing medicine in no time, instead of taking up space in one of the hospital's private rooms." He smiles widely at me for a few seconds; letting the unsubtle dig set in. Then he gathers up the papers he had been skimming over and starts walking out of the lobby. "Come along, Ted."
"Yes, sir." Ted gives me his pathetic 'just kill me, please' look, before following after the Chief of Medicine.
I glance askew at Dr. Cox. His jaw is clenched tightly, causing the tendons to stand out in stark relief along his neck, and he glares with murderous intent after the old man. He notices my attention, and turns his bloodshot eyes to meet mine.
"Ignore him, Meadow. He's a jackass."
I snicker and raise an eyebrow at him.
"You act like I wasn't aware of that. C'mon, I'm not that delusional, Perry." I flash him a broad, impudent grin and he growls at me.
"Don't e-ev-ver call me Perry."
--
Or, of course, a long-running rivalry, which you have no idea for the reason of its existence in the first place...
I pause in my trek down the hallway.
Dr. Cox is a step behind me, and I have been doing a pretty good job at pretending I don't see him, except for the few times I slipped up and spoke to him. Luckily, no one seems to have become aware of it yet.
Ominous music is steadily gaining in pitch in my mind; a bass choir singing an unintelligible message of doom in a foreign language.
I straighten my stance suddenly, my eyes widen comically in alarm, and I glance about me in distress.
I know this sensation all too well... Someone is watching me with the desire to cause harm!
I spin on my heels and look behind me.
Oh God no.
The Janitor is standing there beside his cart filled with cleaning supplies. His eyes are narrowed in a threatening death-glare that is focused directly on me. The dull, gray jumpsuit appears to repel all light, as he has managed to find a patch of darkness to loiter under in the bright passageway.
What is that in his hand?
I watch, captivated, as he oh-so-slowly tilts a can back and forth in front of himself. My eyes follow the motion and I am able to make out the words 'Touch 'n Foam'.
Remain calm, Dorian! He can't prove anything; you removed your fingerprints...
The Janitor smirks now, admirably maintaining his glare to produce a very odd expression, and points at me; mouthing the word 'you'. He then draws an index finger across his throat and his lips form 'are dead'.
Fuck! Did he have a camera set up or something?! What if he saw me?! This is not good, Dorian, he knows, and now he has a reason to torture me! Flee! Now!
"I think we should leave now." I turn promptly to Dr. Cox and give him a taut smile.
His brows knit together and he glances at the Janitor.
"What did you do, Carmella?"
"Nothing!" I jack up my chin, take on an insulted posture, and stalk off down the hall.
The older man trails after me in my wake.
Yep. Things are definitely starting to get back to normal...
--
It is kind of nice having a Cox shadow, but I am beginning to wonder who was supposed to be overseeing my activities, who had actually untied me from my bed, and if any of this is real.
All in all, it is unnerving.
I am determined, though, to not freak out and enjoy the bustle of Sacred Heart. Not even the sudden, unexpected updrafts that blow through my gown and sweep across my unrestricted naughty bits in a way that makes me feel violated can take away my agreeable disposition.
Nope, nothing can bring me down. Not today.
"Oh, hey DJ."
The She-Devil!
"He-hey, Jordan. How are you?" I force a smile at the attractive, evil woman, but it becomes natural as I let my gaze fall on the two-year-old that she has pressed against her side; her right arm wrapped around him.
He is so cute! And he has Dr. Cox's eyes...
"Hi there, Jack-Jack!" I lean my head down level with the boy's and grin broadly at him. His face instantly lights up, causing a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest, and then he reaches out and grabs onto my nose, hard.
OW! Why?! It's still not completely healed.
"What a strong grip you have there, tiger!" I blink back tears, continue to smile, and as gently as I can I pry his fingers off of me; one by one.
"Do not call my son that, Newbie."
I jump; startled at the gruff voice behind me. I had somehow forgotten for a second about the apparition that has been dogging my steps all morning.
This is really not a good sign for my mental health...
I look back up at Jordan, and find her scrutinizing me closely from head to toe, her head cocked to the side.
"You look like crap, princess." She then glances to the side of me. "You really did a number on her, Pear."
I jerk my head so fast and hard to the left that I think I cause whiplash in my neck, and I catch the flinch that passes over Dr. Cox's face at his ex-wife's words. I snap back to look at Jordan in shock.
"Jordan, you can see him?" I jab a thumb in the direction of the Irish man.
"Oh, honey, I think you need to either cut back on, or increase, whatever medications you're taking." She grasps my shoulder with her free hand and squeezes, giving me the mock-sympathetic, patronizing stare that she has perfected. She drops her hand back down to her hip.
AAaagh! Oh God! He's real!
"Could you excuse us, Jordan?" I fake a smile at her, and she gives me a bored expression that clearly shows that she had had little interest in stopping to talk to me in the first place.
Jack reaches out his chubby arms towards his father, evidently wanting to switch carriers, but Dr. Cox just ruffles a hand through the boy's short hair and smiles down at him.
"Whatever, DJ. Perry, you're picking up Jack tomorrow at my mother's." She states to her ex-husband and then moves on down the hallway with her son; high heels clicking rapidly.
"Oh, come on, Jordan! I am not going to that night hag's lair. It was agreed when we got divorced that I would never again have to endure the presence of the creature that spawned you into this world!"
"Four o'clock, Pear!"
Cox chuckles lightly in a pained manner, places his hands behind his head, and threads his fingers together as he watches their departure.
"A word with you, Dr. Cox. Now." I grab onto his left elbow and turn him around to face me. He pulls his lips back from his teeth in a snarl, lowers his arms, and glares pointedly at the hand I have on him.
I let go, but only to switch my grip to his wrist and pull. He plants his feet and doesn't budge, his features darkening even more with obvious displeasure at my antics. I tug harder.
You know he can feel anger, rage, disapproval, irritation, annoyance, impatience, and guilt. C'mon, use the guilt, JD!
"You owe me that much, at least."
Direct hit!
I feel a pang in my chest as his face instantly drains of emotion at my declaration, and he passively allows me to drag him forward down the hall.
"Where are you taking me in such a huff, Gabrielle?" His voice lacks its typical rancor and he sounds distantly curious.
I don't answer.
I simply maintain my pace until we reach the on-call room, and I open the door to check if anybody is inside. It is all clear. I pull, well, more like direct him into the empty room, before slamming the door shut and locking it. I release my hold on his wrist and whirl around to stare angrily at the taller man; who merely cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at me.
Maybe I have been holding back the resentment I feel towards him just a bit...
"Why did you do it?"
"Oh, this is bullshit, Newbie. You know why I did it." He flicks his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. "Cheap come-ons ringing any bells in that vacant head of yours, that you claim oh-so-diligently contains a brain that is capable of sentient thought. Even though you prove, over and over, that it does na-ot."
"I can see you getting irritated over something like that, yeah, and ridiculing me even more than you already do. But not so angry that you would punch me that fucking hard! I am not a complete idiot, Dr. Cox!" I speak fiercely and try to pay no attention to the voice in the back of my mind that is screaming at me to shut up.
"I beg to differ on that."
"Why did my offer to you piss you off so goddamn much?!"
Drop it, JD! It didn't mean anything; he was just in a bad mood.
I take no heed of my thoughts, and press on.
"Are you in that much fucking denial?!"
Danger!
"Denial?" His tone is low and there is a stillness to him that is frightening.
You do want to die!
"Yes, denial! You don't want to admit that you would like for me to suck you off." My mind goes blank after I utter the statement, a comforting defense mechanism, and I stare at Dr. Cox. I am hazily conscious of the fact that I should probably be preparing myself to duck and run.
He is silent for several minutes before he answers.
"You really believe that?" There is no ire in his voice, and it causes my brain to stutter; then start back up.
Calm before the storm! Calm before the storm, damn it! Keep your mouth shut!
"Yes." And I find that I actually do believe it.
"Then prove it, Jennifer."
What?!
I'm frozen in place as I watch him move to one of the flimsy beds to sit down and lean back to rest his weight on his elbows.
I'm hallucinating again.
"I'm hallucinating again."
"No, this is real." He gazes steadily at me, and I am unable to identify his expression.
I know I shouldn't trust my mind to supply me with accurate information right now, but I trust Dr. Cox and my hallucinatory version of him to tell me the truth.
He speaks again, and I jerk my wandering eyes back to him.
"Now, are you going to back up your words, or... run off like the little girl who's all talk, that I know you are?"
This is a trick. Just like my first year when he offered me a hug, mocked me when I tried to get it, and then took my beer! Fine. I'll call his bluff.
"Oh, I'll prove it alright." I start my sexy prowl in his direction, but my steps falter a couple feet from the bunk-bed that he is lounging on.
He watches my stunted progress expectantly, and appears strangely patient.
Come on, Dorian. You can do this. You didn't read 'Fellatio for Dummies' for nothing...
I stall as I try to work up the courage to close the distance.
"So... Anything special you like, Dr. Cox?"
And if I want to sound more like a whore, I should just tell him that I'm going to have to charge him afterwards...
"I think for the blowjob to actually start would be considered something I like." He states sardonically.
Damn it! I can't tell if he is lying or really wants me to do this.
Taking a deep breath, I move forward and close the gap. I lower myself to my knees on the carpeted floor in front of him, place my hands on his slightly parted thighs and urge them farther open. He offers no resistance and I slide in between his legs; pressing my stomach up against the side of the mattress.
I dart a glance up at his face, and again I can't read the look he gives me; it is one I haven't seen before. Agitation flows through my body.
If he's playing with me, this time he is going to regret it.
Even being in the position that I am, I feel confidence take hold of me and with sure hands I reach for the cord that holds the scrub pants tight around his waist and untie it. I place my palms on top of his firm thighs and slide them up to his hips; he doesn't stop me. I look him in the eye and smirk.
I recognize what flashes across his face this time: uncertainty.
Returning to the task literally at hand, I unceremoniously yank his shirt out of his pants and bunch it up around his ribcage.
I am really beginning to hate clothes...
The toned muscles on his stomach sidetrack me and I ghost my fingertips over the expanse of them. He shivers at my touch and I give in to my craving to taste; leaning over to nibble down the path my fingers take and pausing to dip my tongue at his navel before drawing myself away.
I curl my fingers in over the light blue fabric of his scrubs and brush my knuckles against his abdomen teasingly; delighting in the sharp intake of breath I hear from the other man. As I begin to pull down, I am halted by a rough hand in my hair and my head is jerked painfully.
"Newbie." There is strain in his voice.
"What?" I raise my eyes to his and hiss out that one syllable; not trying to conceal any of my annoyance at being interrupted. "What is so important that you have to talk about it right now?"
Our gazes battle each other. Mine is defiant and impatient; while his is conflicted, and emotions flicker through his eyes too quickly for me to register what they might mean.
Eventually, he releases my wrongfully abused hair from his grasp and once again reclines to settle back on his arms.
"Nothing."
Damn straight... or not. No! Don't say that out loud!
"Damn straight." I nod approvingly up at him.
Why?!
"Christ." He closes his eyes tightly at the bad pun. "You better stop talking and put your mouth to something of use, Rosalie, or this is going to be over re-he-eelly quick, and with no happy ending."
I open my mouth to speak, but hastily shut it again. I am starting to get that it is best that I don't talk in situations like this.
Right. Like I have ever been kneeling in front of Dr. Cox and about to go down on him before... Focus! Now, where was I...
I tug at the fabric in my hands and look at him with blatant demand, and he obliges my silent request by lifting his hips up off of the bed. After hooking my fingers into his scrubs on both sides, I pull on the piece of clothing, snagging a hold of his boxers when I reach them, and draw them down over his ass. I shift my right hand to the front and carefully raise the material away from him before moving it lower.
I am greeted by a straining erection; the glans already turning a faint purple hue.
I knew it!
I can't hold back the mischievous smile that forms and I roll my eyes up to look at Dr. Cox; lips parting.
"No talking." He practically snarls at me.
Still amused, I bend down and lightly press an open-mouth kiss to the head of his penis. The other man gasps at the soft touch and I feel the muscles in his hips tense under my hands.
So responsive.
"You don't get oral sex very often, do you?"
Shut up!
"Newbie, I am warning you. If you don't shut up right-"
I give him a rough lick, wrap my lips around the tip of him, and effectively end his rant; turning it into a strangled groan. I apply gentle suction and compress my mouth to test the unfamiliar density. Moving my tongue leisurely from side to side, I slowly ease downward to take more of his length into me, and then glance at my mentor's face. He is staring heatedly at me and clutching the sheet he is on with a white-knuckled grip. My surveillance does not go unnoticed.
"You are trying to kill me and you are a fucking tease, Charmaine." He manages to grit out huskily from behind his clenched teeth.
I laugh with the sleek flesh in my mouth, allowing my head to dip along with the shaking of my body, and it earns me a stifled moan from my captive. Containing my mirth, I swallow around him. It is a very peculiar sensation for me, but obviously one that Cox enjoys; if the quiet, choked-off cries from the doctor are any indication. He curves up off the mattress despite my hold, and in farther past my lips. I grimace as the head of his cock hits the back of my throat, and fight for a moment with my gag reflex; pulling back off of him completely. He actually whimpers at that action, but it quickly transforms into a growl.
This is definitely more fun than I thought it would be...
I slide my hands down from his hips, over the rigid muscles of his inner thighs, and use my left palm to caressingly rub his scrotum, while I use the fingers of my right hand to surround the base of his generously sized shaft. I stroke him several times, my touch firm and rapid, and tilt my head to watch him as he arches his back; pulling the sheet up from the mattress. My eyes trace hungrily over the outline of his flexed physique that strains against the confines of his shirt.
I stop the movement of my hand abruptly and squeeze tightly. He mutters an incoherent oath, and I wait until he lifts his head up to focus angry, lust-glazed eyes on me, before leaning back down and running my tongue along the bottom of his cock. In drastic contrast to the delicate contact, I suddenly take as much of him into my mouth as I can and constrict my lips around him snugly, mindful of my teeth, and mimic the previous motions of my hand. He surges upward, but the thumb and index finger I have on him bumps up against my mouth and prevents him from going past my threshold.
Halting once again, I give him a light warning bite; a mere pressing of my teeth onto his achingly hard dick, and he hisses sharply in pain. I lap and twirl my tongue over the tender area in silent apology, before lifting myself up until the moist heat of my mouth only engulfs the crown of him and flick my tongue vigorously over the sensitive skin.
A violent shudder resonates through his tense body, and I make the decision to bring my playing to an end.
I plunge down onto his cock and set up a fast tempo; bobbing my head and sucking as powerfully as I am able to with the speed I'm moving at. I flatten my tongue and undulate it against him with the strokes of my mouth and hand; while with my left hand I roll his testicles in my palm and apply firm pressure to them.
I've gotten pretty good at multitasking.
Forcing myself to maintain my concentration, I am still aware of the variety of sounds being made by the other man. Mostly curses, but also quiet gasps, groans that seem to contain more agony than pleasure, and deep rumbling moans that I know will be echoing in my mind for a long time.
So lost in what I am doing, I am caught off guard as his entire body jolts into a rigid, motionless posture and semen floods into the back of my throat. I try to cough around his cock that is still buried in far past my lips. Choking, I jerk off and away from him as fast as I can to sputter and spit the fluid that is currently trying to strangle me; leaving me gasping for air with come running down my chin.
Very sexy finish, Dorian...
I glare at Dr. Cox. He drags a hand through his curls before meeting my eyes and clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry." His voice is rough and I feel a startled spasm of disbelief flash in my mind at those two simple words.
"For what? Not giving me a little warning? Or for hitting me?" My tone is laced with sarcasm and incredulousness.
"Both." He appears sincere, and for some reason I'm instantly furious.
"You know what? Fuck you."
I grab a corner of the bed sheet and carelessly rub at the lower part of my face. Once the obvious traces of what just happened are gone, I climb to my feet and stalk to the door; taking satisfaction in the fact that the older man's jaw is dropped open in surprise. I turn the lock and the click it makes rings too loudly in my ears.
"Newbie-"
"I hope you enjoyed that. I really do." I state calmly. Then I open the door and escape the room that now feels as though it is trying to asphyxiate me.
And almost walk right into Todd.
There is no God.
The perverted scalpel-jockey has a knowing grin on his face and I swallow nervously; only to frown a few seconds later when he raises his right hand up in front of him with the palm facing out and fingers splayed.
"On-call room nookie five!"
"No! No, Todd, there was no nookie, and there is no high-five for you!" I snarl at him and feel some guilt at the kicked-puppy expression he gives me, but only just a little.
I pass by the surgeon and continue with livid strides down the hallway. I have no idea why I am so enraged, but I need to find a noiseless place to be alone, and sort through my thoughts to figure it out. Now.
"Adriana, wait!"
I ignore the shout from behind me; there is not even a pause in my gait.
"Newbie! Goddamn it! Stop running away like a girl!"
A strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and whips me around to face a very pissed-off looking Dr. Cox. I scowl at him and open my mouth to speak, but a yell from the side-corridor of the intersection we are in distracts me.
All I make out is a green and brown blur, and then Cox is abruptly propelled away from me; his back striking hard against the wall behind us with a muffled thump.
"Turk!" I hear Carla call out, and look over to see her gawking at her husband, frozen in the act of placing a chart in its divider. My eyes dart to Turk, who is standing mere inches from me on my left side with his hands clenched into fists.
"You stay the fuck away from him." My best friend's voice is low; dangerous in a way I rarely hear it. His normally gentle face is set in fierce determination, and he begins to approach my mentor.
I glance at Dr. Cox. He wipes at the line of blood that trails down from the corner of his mouth to the edge of his jaw, studies it for a moment, and then raises his eyes in a slow, deliberate manner to meet Turk's; a slight smile curling at one side of his lips.
This is not good! Divert!
I step in between the two men that are now engaged in a stare-down, and hold up a hand at each of them.
No! Divert from a safe distance, damn it!
"Oookay, you both just need to calm down and not do anything stupid." I look at one and then the other. "Alright?"
"No, JD. He's had this coming for a long time now." Turk starts to move past me, but I hold my arm up in front of his chest to stop him.
I pick up the quiet sound of a shoe sliding across linoleum from behind me and snap my attention to Dr. Cox.
"You need to stay out of this, Livia." He growls at me without taking his gaze off of Turk.
I've got it!
"You've been using 'The Sopranos' themed girls' names for me!" I point the index finger of my left hand at Dr. Cox, and then scrunch my eyebrows together. "Why 'The Sopranos'?"
Both men stare at me; Turk in confusion and Cox in astounded annoyance.
Yes! Mission 'Derailment' complete!
No one moves for a few moments, except to breathe, and then two things happen at once.
Turk pushes my arm away and Dr. Cox shoves me roughly to the side.
I stumble back several steps, barely manage to keep my balance, and watch as the doctor and the surgeon advance on each other.
Uh oh...
End Chapter.
Feel free to not read the rest of this... I got really carried away with my notes, and actually took some from the beginning and moved them down here so you wouldn't have to read them. 'smirk' Of course, you could have just skipped over the bold text at the start of the chapter... and if you did do that, good job on showing some initiative!
Yay, more goddamn A/N: Dr. Cox took advantage of a crazy person. 'tisks' That is never a smart move and I know from experi-... well, okay, all of my ex's know from experience, but that's not the point. There will be repercussions... or not, I haven't decided yet on whether I'm going to reward or punish him. I think I'd enjoy both.
I'm not sure if I'm going to try doing an action sequence as I highly doubt my ability to do so without it completely sucking. 'shrug' I'll find out later.
After this chapter, I've finally realized that it is kind of strange writing sex scenes in the present-tense first-person view. Not bad strange, just... yeah, odd as hell when I'm used to third-person past-tense and I can't describe everything that is happening; only what is seen, felt, and heard by a single individual at that very moment. It's hard keeping my thoughts in order.
And once again my writing has shifted a bit, hopefully for the better. I really can't tell. I just see messed up sentences that might be worded wrong and ways I should probably switch them around, break them up, or completely remove them to make it a clearer, smoother, easier read. 'glares' We must all have our goals, damn it! Also, my chapters are gradually lengthening; don't know if that will continue... and no, I'm not counting my outrageously long A/Ns into it. Commas were my stigma this time, don't know why, and at most parts I took them out just because they looked wrong... Yes, I do shit like that... Mostly for the reason that I cannot write anything else until I fix it... and just not having them appeases me. 'blank stare' Screw grammar...
Fun Fact: I kept myself sober until I finished this as a bribe to get it done. That's over a week of sobriety. I'm not sure if I like being this clear-headed…
Final Thought: I need to get this story out of the fucking hospital. If I have to keep typing an abundance of 'hallways', 'corridors', and 'passageways', I am going to destroy something, and I really like my possessions... I almost didn't type this because my word count was at 7,777, and that seemed lucky. Ah well.