Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

RILEY

Three days go by and there really was a guest bed all this time. I've slept comfortably in it in between appointments. They were basic follow ups on my finger where he rebandaged my wound. While asleep last night, I fell off the bed, bumping my head, with no recollection of it happening and waking up on the floor in pain.

He treats me for that too, monitoring me throughout the day and checking for nausea or dizziness, and leads me to the room after dinner when my small cut randomly starts bleeding. "How's the head?" he asks, shining a light in my eyes while running a warm towel over my skin.

"Not too bad. A little throbby but I'm also tired."

"I'll be quick. I just want to take proper precautions. Now's the best time to retake that temperature. Lean over the table and unbutton your pants."

I do it without questioning him, stretching my arms out. He tugs down my pants to lube my hole. The thermometer slowly goes in, and he teases my sensitive areas with it before holding it still. It's the longest minute of my life. A loud beep sounds around us and he pulls away, coming back to wipe my hole clean, reaching every crevice in slow strokes.

My temperature is normal and he bandages my head, handing me two Ibuprofen before we leave the room. We stick to the usual schedule that I've become accustomed to—eating dinner together, showering separately, and him tucking me into bed. Our time together is ending soon, and at first I was looking forward to it, worried I'd be stuck here forever, but now I'm scared for an entirely different reason. I hit my head way harder than I thought.

"You talk and fight in your sleep a lot," a deep, silky voice startles me awake. Sam sits in a chair in the corner of the room with his ankles crossed and elbows resting on his knees.

Sitting up in bed, I clutch onto the covers. "How long have you been there?"

"Only the last three hours or so. I was observing your sleeping habits. We can do today's testing in this bed if you'd prefer?"

Glancing around, I nod, spreading my hands along the full-size mattress. "It's more comfortable than the table."

"I'll change the sheets while you eat your breakfast on the couch. I think you should relax a little before we get started. No TV though, because you're still on limited screen time with that concussion of yours."

"What else should I do?"

"Go back to sleep for a little longer after eating. You look tired enough. Doctor's orders." A smile spreads across his face and he stands up. "Your waffles are on the fold-out table outside the room. I'll be upstairs answering important emails. Wash up in the shower in the other room after you're done eating, and I'll come back down when I'm ready for our visit."

"Okay. Can I get some new clothes?"

"I'll bring you a fresh gown. You won't need any clothes until later. We have another long day ahead of us."

"A gown is fine."

"What are some foods you like? I need to go to the store later."

My shoulders lift. "I'm not picky. I like most things. Everything you've fed me has been great so far."

"I'll keep surprising you then." He walks out the door, leaving it open, and I toss the covers off me. Stretching out my limbs, I stand out of bed and head to where the couch is. My food is waiting for me where he said it was and I eat slowly, savoring every bite. Looking at the TV, I think about how I've been allowed to watch all the shows I never could before. I sip my water, hearing Stephen's voice in my head.

"We can't afford cable or streaming services," he would say, because he needed something else. A new coat for winter, pants for work, computer for school, or whatever else he'd come up with when I wanted to spend money on myself. I've been spoiled here. Home-cooked meals, silky pajamas, a leisurely bed, and I occasionally forget why being here is so bad.

I take a quick shower. The pressure is wonderful and the shampoo smells like fresh flowers. The soap is exfoliating and there are new loofahs on a rack. I use the toothbrush in the holder and all the other toiletries left for me. Then, dried and draped in the gown left for me on the sink counter, my soreness is hardly noticeable as I walk back to the room to nap. I'm startled awake by Sam's loud presence. Dressed in his large white coat, he tugs on a pair of fresh gloves.

Two vials sit on the nightstand and next to them are a pack of needles. My stomach swims and I sit on the edge of the freshly made bed. "What's all this?"

"For the blood draw. How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Banks?"

"Good. What time is it?"

"Don't worry about that. You're right on time. Sit back against the headboard for me please."

Repositioning my legs, I scoot up until my back hits the headboard, and I adjust my gown when I realize how much of me is hanging out.

"Comfy?" He rolls himself on his stool toward me.

"As comfy as I can be right before being stuck with a needle."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. You'll get through it like you have everything else. You're my perfect patient, remember?"

My heart soars. "Yeah. I remember. I just really hate needles."

"A lot of people do. How about you focus on something else. Try closing your eyes and imagine you're at the place you want to be most in the world."

My eyes flutter shut, and everywhere I go in my mind he's there. Naked with me on the beach. Giving me a prostate massage on his couch while I watch more TV. Him, probing me with his tongue on the exam table. Wait... that's not going to a different place. He's either traveling with me or we stay here. I stay here. This isn't my escape. It's my prison. I have to remember that.

I open my eyes and he's gently slapping a bandage on my arm, carrying a vial filled with blood between his fingers. Those proud eyes have me forgetting everything I'm supposed to remember. "You did wonderful. We're all done, you see?"

I feel like someone's lit a firework inside me, burning brighter when he closes the gap to whisper in my ear. "So wonderful. My good little patient."

The next cultures he takes aren't as easy and he uses a urinal to collect my urine sample, rubbing my belly when I struggle to empty my bladder. My cock hardens the lower his hand goes, and I almost make a mess everywhere until he wraps his fingers around my base, holding me in place. "Doing perfectly, sweet boy. We're almost done, and you're right where I need you to be for our semen collection."

I almost come on the spot, his fingers squeezing tighter as my last drops fill the bottle. He tugs it away, setting it on the nightstand. I jump when a cold wipe touches my skin and he cleans around my balls too, my tip leaking like a damn faucet.

"Save some of that for this cup," he says, with humor lacing his tone. I try to pull the pillows from behind my back and he stops me. "You can stay how you are. You're at the perfect angle. I'll grab some lube and drop everything off at the lab." Winking, he disappears outside the door and I'm not at all prepared for what's to come. He walks in with a TENS machine, placing one lead on my balls, one on my taint, and another above my cock head. Vibrations shoot through my body when he turns on the machine, driving me to claw at the sheets and kick my feet. The slow pace is agonizing, and when he cranks up the speed I cry out, pressing my back harder to the pillows.

"I…It hurts." But in the best fucking way.

His eyes light up. "Need to stop?"

"No. Please don't."

"We won't then, and I'll help push things along." Rubbing a finger over my rim, he guides the cup to my cock, collecting as much cum as he can. The machine shuts off and he shoves a finger in the cup, lifting it to his nose. "Smells healthy. The color is good too." I swallow a gasp when his tongue flicks over the tiny amount left on his finger. "Tastes good too. So far, I have yet to see anything major to be concerned about. We should talk about sleep therapy though. I think I have a way to help you with your oversensitivity issues too."

"What do you suggest?" I say, blissed out and light-headed after the best orgasm of my life. I never knew it could feel so good. That having someone care enough to go out of his way to prevent me from falling sick could feel so good, filling a void inside me.

"Restraints for the restless leg and arm syndrome. I think helping your body feel more grounded will settle your mind more."

"You're going to tie me to the bed?" Excitement stirs inside me, and then I think about how he might leave me like that for days while milking my cock with more machines, and here comes the fear I subconsciously seek. He gives me everything I need all at once, and this feels too much like a dream come true mixed with the perfect nightmare.

"Yes, but don't worry, they're hospital approved and are not at all uncomfortable."

"And my sensitivity issues?"

"Stimulation therapy. I'll work with you three times a day, strengthening your ability to control what you're feeling for longer. Would you like to try both of those things? Only thing is, I'll need you here longer than three days."

"Yes," I blurt. "I want to get better, Doctor."

"I know you do, sweetheart." He strokes my cheek. "And you will. I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think I can be restrained alone though. I might end up panicking at the idea of there being a fire and no one being able to reach me in time to untie me."

"Then you won't be. You can stay with me in my bed. It'll be easier to observe you that way, and it'll save us some time at the next checkup. It won't have to go as long. Sound good?"

"Yes. Thank you, Doctor." I preen and he runs his fingers through my hair.

"You're very welcome. You know I like taking care of you. You're the best patient I've ever had."

"Yes, I know." I rub my face against his hand like a needy cat.

"You're so good at following orders, and never question any required testing or treatments. You understand what needs to be done and let me do my job to the best of my abilities."

"I like being your patient, Doctor. I don't ever have to worry about being sick too long or getting an infection."

"You don't. Not ever." His fingers trail down my neck and goose bumps covers my flesh. "You are so tense still. Tell me what else you need to relax?"

"So much pressure on my prostate that needs relieving. I can't sit too long without feeling my hole twitch with discomfort."

His eyes darken and he beams. "Oh, we don't want that. I'm so happy you can be honest with me. Turn onto your belly and let me take care of it for you."

Thrumming with anticipation, I turn around, adjusting the pillows and lowering myself in bed. Cool air trickles down my back as he tugs off the covers and slides a pillow under my hips. Kneeling between my legs, his warm hands knead my cheeks and his warm tongue brushes over my seam. He licks and nips at my pucker, sucking on my sensitive skin. I press my ass closer to his face, accepting all my treatment, already feeling the pressure shift somewhere else.

Moaning into my hole, he darts inside me, lapping at my inner walls, and adds a finger alongside his tongue. A second is added in no time, and then a third. He plunges deeper and faster, spreading me wider, heat spreading all over my skin like wildfire.

I'm light and heavy at the same time. Both standing and flying. Sam curls his fingers against my prostate, knuckles deep, and I squirm underneath him, needing more.

"More, Doctor. I'm so close to feeling better. I just need a little more."

Complying with my demands, he removes his fingers and lines the tip of his cock with my hole. I don't question if it's safe when his skin is bare against mine, because he's done so much testing on me and he's my doctor. He wouldn't risk my health. Not ever.

"So good for me. Taking your treatment like a good boy. I knew you were perfect when I first saw you on my table, wounded and longing for something more. For me. For this. We can be that missing something for each other."

"For another week." I crane my neck, shooting him a quick glance and he laughs. "Yes. And the week after and the week after. And however long this close observation is needed. However long I feel I need to ensure you're a hundred percent healthy, and that could be a really long time."

Tingles crawl up my spine—he really is trapping me here with never-ending appointments. More testing and therapies. More him. "But what if I want to leave sooner?"

"You won't." He pushes his cock deeper, and I feel the pop of my muscles as they're being breached. Only sliding in halfway, he pauses above me, running his fingers down my side. "You won't, because that will make you a bad patient and you never want to be that, do you?"

"No, Doctor." I really don't either. The thought has my chest tightening and I feel like I'm being temporarily suffocated.

The metaphorical hands loosen around my neck when he says, "Then don't. Keep making me proud. We're both better off when you do, don't you agree?"

"Yes. I don't want to disappoint you."

"I know. No good patient would." He pulls out to slam back in, his movements rough and hard. I'm rolling with pleasure from the ache and the wonderful way his cock strokes over the part he reminded me needs more attention. Rolling his hips, he hits it again, and we're like two rubbing sticks creating fire together. He strokes my nipples and kisses my neck, his hips meeting with mine in perfect motion. Pleasure erupts inside me, and I've never felt more alive.

He empties himself inside me, his warm cum filling my hole and cock throbbing inside my wrecked channel. Comfort washes over me as he cleans me up and cuddles me in his arms. I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy feeling safe. Right when I'm worried I won't have that panic of things going wrong at any moment, I wake up to all the stuff I stole laid out around me. He had it all this time, and now, he has me too.

THE END