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“You know it’s your own fault, right?”
You chuck your pillow across the room, nailing your roommate square in the face. You grumble something out of pocket about the pillow being filled with bricks next time as she swats the pillow off of the bed, a chuckle in the air.
“I mean, c’mon, five years? Who goes five years without going to the doctor?” She shakes her head at you incredulously, completely unsympathetic to your current ire.
“Shut up,” you shoot back. “I didn’t have insurance for a while, I couldn’t just pull up whenever I had a little tummy ache, okay?”
“Well, now you don’t need it, so you should be grateful that you can actually have someone dust those cobwebs off of you,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you huff.
“Yeah, I guess…”
You couldn’t believe the Ministry was requiring you to get an annual physical. It seemed so pointless. So what if you had gone five years without getting checked out? You weren’t dead or sick, you were able to perform basic functions with your basic body parts in basic ways that didn’t require someone to poke and prod you every three hundred and sixty-five days, and none of that changed just because you were now huddled up here with a group of eccentric satanists with an affinity for rock music.
You figured it wouldn’t ever come up. Hell, you hadn’t even thought about it. You wouldn’t have even remembered that it had been so long since being to the doctor if Sister Imperator hadn’t brought it up in your last evaluation.
“Explain,” She had practically spat the word in your face after sliding a single sheet of paper across her desk to sit in front of you. She stabbed a date printed at the top with the tip of her finger and stared daggers into you.
You bristled in her presence. She had scared the shit out of you since you’d joined the Ministry six months prior, and the feeling had not subsided in the time you’d gotten to know her. If anything, it had gotten worse. Your back had stiffened like a board while you tentatively leaned over to peek at what she was accusing you of.
Your shoulders sagged when you saw that it was part of your medical record. It didn’t exactly surprise you that the Ministry had it on hand; if there was anything that you had picked up on since coming here, it was that the Clergy was disturbingly thorough in their record keeping. No matter how they had gotten their hands on it, seeing it in front of you was absolutely not what you expected, and much less what you wanted.
“W-what is it?” You’d asked, knowing it had to do with your spotty history with hospitals and doctors, but not entirely sure which part she was referring to.
“The date of your last physical exam.” Her face did not soften as she explained. “Look at the year, dear.”
So, you did. Truth be told, you were actually surprised it had only been five years. You avoided doctors whenever you could. Prior to this five-year drought you were currently in, it was rare that you paid a visit regularly, opting to pop in only when it was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t so much fear that kept you away, it was… discomfort. You just felt so exposed whenever you went, and for what? So they could tell you everything was a-okay and then foot you an exorbitant bill? It just wasn’t fucking worth the effort. Add in your loss of insurance in the years prior to your finding the ministry, and getting an annual check-up was far from the top of your priority list.
You didn’t expect it to skyrocket to the top of said list against your will, but never underestimate Sister Imperator. She had shoved the paper into your face, demanding that you “remedy the situation immediately.”
“She’s anal about the Ministry’s handlings, she doesn’t want any box left unchecked,” your roommate had said when you told her. “I mean, it’s a business, right? Every business requires medical shit like that.”
You’d rolled your eyes, but you knew she was right. There was nothing you could do about it. You just had to suck it up and go to the satan-forsaken doctor.
It didn’t stop you from complaining, though, which is precisely how your roommate got your pillow in her face. It didn’t matter that you had to do it; you still didn’t see the point. You felt fine, you had no issues to raise It was going to be a waste of both yours and the doctor’s time.
And there lies the other issue…
You knew there was an infirmary in the Ministry. Of course there was, that was a no brainer. What you hadn’t realized was that the ministry’s dear resident physician was an Emeritus.
“You will remedy this problem tomorrow,” Imperator had stated, “My son will see you.”
Your heart dropped into your ass at her words. Her son?!
Imperator’s age-old relationship with Papa Nihil was no secret, nor was the fact that their “rat bastard” (Nihil’s words) of a son worked at the Ministry. His existence was common knowledge, but you hadn’t ever paid him much mind. Hell, you couldn’t have possibly pictured his face, even if you tried. He was never going to be Papa, so what did he really matter?
You supposed your steadfast avoidance of the medical wing didn’t exactly help matters, but nobody really talked about the mythical Copia Emeritus. He seemed to prefer his own company over the company of siblings and ghouls, contrary to his brothers’ preferences. You thought you may have heard a rumor about him saving rats from the ministry kitchen before they could get poisoned, smuggling them out and to safety in the basket of a tricycle or something of the like, but the siblings loved to spin yarns. You had no idea he was a doctor, never mind the ministry’s physician.
And now you had an appointment to see him in your calendar. You had to admit, there was a tiny bit of excitement prickling your skin at the idea of finally getting a good look at him, but it was quickly overshadowed by annoyance and very familiar discomfort. Not only did you need to see a doctor, you had to see a doctor within the same bloodline as every single one of your goddamn superiors, and you had to lay on your back in front of him, naked and exposed and uncomfortable.
Fuck Imperator and fuck her little rat bastard quack of a son, too.
You just needed the next day to be over already.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Your knee bounces uncontrollably, making the paper under you crinkle over and over. It was the only sound in the empty exam room, save for your own attempts at deep breathing. Your nerves are bouncing off the walls. You glance at the clock on the wall. Nearly five thirty. Your appointment was at five.
Where was he?
A ghoul had let you into the infirmary right on time, and quite frankly, you had expected him to be waiting for you. Instead, you had been instructed to strip down to nothing, put on your flimsy little hospital gown, and wait like a good girl.
You groan and hang your head. You want to be done with this, had expected him to have been done with you by this time. You’re antsy and hungry and nervous and uncomfortable and—
You’re startled by the door opening a crack, followed by a soft knock.
“Eh, hello?” A soft, accented voice floats into the room. “May I come in?”
Fucking finally.
“Yes, come in,” You answer back in a quick, flat tone, ready to do this. You sit up and cross your legs, the fabric of your gown flowing over the skin of your bare legs.
The door creaks and opens all the way, and a man follows it into the room. He sheepishly turns and shuts it quietly behind him before turning and smiling at you softly.
Oh…
“Buon pomeriggio, cara,” his voice is soft, Italian accent pronounced in the same way as his older brothers, yet smooth like caramel. “I’m, eh, Dr. Emeritus. But I suppose you probably already know that, sí?” He lets out a small, self-conscious laugh.
OH…
Fuck.
Dr. Copia Emeritus is gorgeous.
His face soft and kind, his smile genuine, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly as his eyes meet yours. They are all too familiar eyes, eyes you see almost every day walking around the ministry at one point or another. But, on this man, they feel… different. On his brothers, they radiate power and confidence, announcing to the world that these men mean something, that they are not to be trifled with. There is hint of that in the youngest Emeritus before you, yet there is something else residing there, something that makes you feel as though he can look directly into your soul, behind your eyes and into your heart.
He looks at you from the door and you feel as though you are about to melt before him.
You hadn’t expected his face paint. You thought that was an honor for Papa and Papa alone. Yet, he stands before you, face painted a stark white, black running from his lips up into lines that led to his ears. His hair is tucked back there, as well, a coppery brown color with strands of grey speckled throughout. It looks immensely soft, and it’s the perfect length for you to run your hands through…
Your breath hitches at the thought, and suddenly, your hands are gripping the strands tightly, his body on top of you, pushing you down onto the cushion of the exam table. Now your legs are crossed for an entirely different reason, pressing tightly together as heat kicks between your legs at the unexpected, filthy thought pervading your mind.
“Eh… hello? Are you, uh, are you with me, dear?”
You jump out of your skin, completely lost in your dirty-minded examination of your doctor.
“Yes! I’m sorry, I- I got distracted,” You quickly answer, trying to cover your tracks, keep him from realizing just how hard you were staring at him. “It’s, uh, n-nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Copia gives you another genuine smile. “Non preoccuparti, tesoro.” Fuck, the way his voice sounds, the lilt of his words…
He would sound so nice in my ear when he—
Stop.
The man had stood before you for less than five minutes and you were already mapping out his moans in your head. What was happening?
Copia walks to a stool and plops into it, causing it to roll on its wheels slightly. He plants his feet on the ground and grips the clipboard in his hands by the top, resting the bottom in his lap. The lapels of his white coat fall down over the stool, covering the black leather. Your eyes wander and see just how tight the pants are that he’s wearing, shaping his thighs perfectly…
This is un-fucking-fair.
“You seem a bit… nervous. Are you, eh…” Copia trails off softly, lifting one hand and waving it in an unhelpful gesture. “Jittery, perhaps? I know this is your first appointment in quite some time, so it, eh, would make sense.”
You were already jittery before he walked into the room, and he’s only making it worse. You ball your gown up in your fists, trying to calm your breathing. “Ah, yeah. It’s certainly been a-a while.” Your voice is shaking.
Copia tilts his head a bit and raises his eyebrows. “Ah, well, don’t you worry, dolce, I’ll be gentle.”
Another squeeze of your thighs together. Fuck, how is he affecting you so much?
You feel a slight blush creeping up your neck, and you lift a hand to subtly rub at it as you give a timid smile. “Thank you, doctor,” you practically whisper.
He gives a sympathetic smile. “There’s really no need to be nervous,” he says, rising from his place on the stool. He turns and plops his clipboard down on the counter next to him before meeting your eyes. “Just a simple physical, sí? Just need to make sure you don’t eh, have any odds and ends sticking out so Sister can check you off her little list. Nothing serious, cara.”
You breathe out through your nose and give him a nod. Good, let him think it’s just medical jitters. Better he thinks you’re some wimp with medical exams than know what he’s actually doing in your mind.
Copia reaches for a box of gloves across the counter, hooking a finger in the hole at the top and tugging it toward him, sliding across the smooth plastic until it stops against his hand. He plucks two blue, latex gloves out and begins to pull the material over his hands.
“I’ll tell you what,” he speaks again, “We will combine. I will, eh, ask you all of my little questions while I prod you, suona bene? That way I can, eh, get you out of here faster.” He finishes snapping the second glove over his hand and he flexes his fingers, making the material squeak.
While I prod you…
Physicals already made you feel exposed, and now you have to be exposed…in front of…
Your heart is pounding, and you swear your legs are shaking. There is a throb in your clit now, your mind alight with images of the pretty Dr. Emeritus once he begins to… prod you.
You don’t trust your voice to be steady, so you simply nod at him. Better to get out of here quickly. The sooner you can get back to your room, the sooner you can calm down, take care of yourself. You just have to get through this.
Copia walks up to you slowly and meets your eyes. “Relax, doll,” he says soothingly, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise.” He extends a hand, his pinky finger extended in a good old-fashioned pinky promise. You chuckle lightly and hook your own pinky finger around his gloved one. Even through the material, you swear you can feel the heat of his skin, and it prickles you, makes you want.
He smiles again and lets your hand go. He turns, his coat flowing behind him with the movement, and he snatches up a blood pressure cuff. Swift, practiced movements bring the cuff securely around your arm, and before you know it, he has a read and releases you from its vice grip. Copia moves around the side of the exam table and out of your periphery.
“So, five years, eh? Anything stuck out to you in that time? Any irregularities, problems, pain, or the like?” He begins rattling off his questions, his voice behind your ears.
“Um…” you think for a second, searching. “I don’t, uh, I don’t think s—” Your voice cuts into a sharp gasp as you feel the back of your gown open. Copia’s laying his stethoscope onto your skin now, and you realize he can probably hear just how erratic your breathing has become. The openness of the only fabric on your body sticks out to you with Copia behind you, the hand that’s not maneuvering the end of his stethoscope pressing lightly into the skin of your back, holding you still. You can’t even feel the cold of the metal against you; all you can feel is his touch.
“Ah, it’s a bit cold, mi dispiace per quello,” Copia continues to move the gadget around your back, pressing it intently against you. “Deep breath in for me, darling.”
You suck as much air into your lungs as you possibly can, but you know your breath is shuddering, and with how his ears are quite literally hooked up to your breathing, there is no way he won’t catch it.
Still, he says nothing, continuing his examination of your breath sounds. He tells you to breathe a few more times as he moves the metal around before removing it from your skin entirely. However, the hand on your back remains.
His voice sounds in your ear. “You need to relax, cara. Your heart’s going a mile a minute.”
You turn to his words and are met with Copia closer to your face than you expected. You finally feel his other hand move, but he remains close to you. “You have strong breath sounds, non sono preoccuparto. But, you need to remember: you’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He sounds so authentic, so truly concerned with your supposed nerves, you almost feel bad for worrying him this way. Slowly, you nod. “Yes, doctor.”
Copia moves to face your front, looking into your eyes. You stare back at him, taking in the single milky white iris boring into you. It’s mesmerizing.
You want to see what it would look like dripping with lust.
He reaches both hands and places his fingers onto your neck, pressing lightly. “Have you had, eh, any trouble eating? Sleeping? Do you take any medication?”
You lift your neck to let him in, relishing the press of his fingers into the sensitive flesh. You shake your head in answer, being truthful. You really didn’t see the point in this exam; you have nothing to complain about.
Copia continues to speak with you as he works, checking your eyes and ears, asking questions that you truthfully, but halfheartedly, answer. Your mind is entirely focused on him; the way he moves around you, the several strands of hair that have fallen from his neatly combed back style to hang over his forehead, the tug of his plump lips when you say something slightly sarcastic and make him laugh.
You made a mental note to ask around about him after this. You want to know if any siblings know him. You want to get some details that can be formulated into images. You have a sneaking suspicion he will be making some guest appearances the next few times you touch yourself.
You’re snapped out of your thoughts by his hand pushing gently on one of your shoulders. “Lie back for me, will you?”
Your brain goes a bit fuzzy at the command, the words creeping their way down your body, but you comply. He hovers over you and takes the fabric of your gown around your shoulders in his hands and tugs it down your chest, exposing your breasts. He does so quickly, efficiently, and you don’t have time to react, so dazed by his eyes raking down your half-exposed body. Your legs uncrossed when you laid back, so they lay splayed apart, your thighs trembling, gooseflesh prickling you at the cold air of the office hitting you. Copia reaches over you and begins kneading the flesh around your breasts, pressing in and out in a circular motion.
A simple breast exam. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, unless you count how hard your nipples are, of course.
Your skin feels like it’s on fire under his touch, and now you crave him, wishing he would move his fingers inward and pinch your sensitive nipples. You can see him in your mind, meticulous hands rolling the hard little bud between his fingers, flicking it back and forth, leaning over and laving a tongue over it, sucking it into his mouth. You could so clearly imagine the circle of black his lips would leave around your breasts if he did…
You’re so lost that you don’t even notice Copia finish with your chest, bringing the fabric of your gown back up to cover you again. Your head snaps to look up at him, suddenly remembering that you are still, in fact, in the middle of a physical. Copia turns and slides his clipboard toward himself, jotting a few words quickly down onto the paper. He studies quickly what he’s written and hums to himself distractedly.
“When was the last time you had a pap smear, dear?”
Your mind goes blank. Completely and utterly blank.
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….
You’re wet. You know you’re wet, had been wet since your first lascivious little thought about this ridiculously sexy doctor. You have been squeezing your thighs together, trying to tamp down the ache, to make the feeling subside, but there isn’t much you can do about the slick, the evidence.
And now he wants to open your fucking legs.
You want to lie. You think about saying you had had the procedure done in recent months, that it isn’t necessary, that he can just leave it at that, send you on your way, thank you very much for your cooperation, dear Dr. Emeritus.
But you can’t. You can’t even remember the last time you had a pap smear done. It certainly wasn’t during your last physical, and if Imperator was able to scrounge up when your last physical was, there is no way you can get away with lying to Copia’s face.
He might still let you go. Maybe you can tell him you’re nervous, maybe you can do it another day, a day when you’re better prepared, you know what you’re dealing with, give yourself a good fuck before he starts scrounging around down there. Fuck, you’re even more eager to face Imperator’s wrath over not getting this done than the humiliation of Copia seeing exactly what he’s done to you.
You’re about to try, about to come up with an excuse to leave, when Copia glances up at you. “It’s been a long time, sí? You’re supposed to have one every, eh, three years or so,” he says, sounding deep in thought. “Since you’re here, we should get it out of the way. That way you don’t have to come back down here again, hm?”
Fuck. He was trying to make this easier for you. How could you possibly say no?
You open your mouth to speak, your throat dry. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you can barely hear him speak again.
“It doesn’t hurt, cara, trust me,” he soothes, taking your humiliated trepidation as anxiety. “You’ll just feel a bit of pressure. It’s very quick. Two seconds, sí?”
You find yourself nodding without meaning to. He smiles and hums in approval, approaching the exam table. He reaches under the cushion and pulls, setting two black stirrups into place at the edge of the table. “Put your feet here, per favore, and just relax.” He turns and begins rustling around in a drawer.
You draw in a breath and place your feet against the stirrups, spreading your legs out over the end of the exam table. You don’t move the gown from over your legs; you can’t bring yourself to grip the fabric, too embarrassed of the reality between your legs. The chill of the room is beginning to snake under the cloth already, and you already feel so exposed to him.
Copia turns back to you, pulling a fresh pair of gloves over his hands. He gathers up his little medical tools in his hands and sits back on his stool, rolling it up to the exam table, settling himself between where your legs are spread for him. He’s unwrapping something, but he looks up at your positioning briefly. “Eh, if you wouldn’t mind pulling your gown up past your hips, that would be perfetto.”
You do as you’re told, bunching the fabric up into your hands. Your entire lower half is now exposed to Copia, and a particular chill hits you, making you entirely too aware of just how much of your desire was smeared all over your thighs. Your breath hitches as Copia looks up and between your legs.
I hope he thinks my cunt is pretty, at least…
There’s a fire in your chest, burning shame consuming you as you feel Copia’s eyes take you in. But there’s more than that, more burning in your body. A fire is alight in your belly, your core is throbbing even more insistently, and now you’re beginning to realize; this is exciting you. The thought of Copia there, between your legs, seeing just how wet you are for him, spread open and at his mercy…
You don’t notice how Copia’s eyes are narrowing. You’re lost in your imaginations, your legs tensing involuntarily, as he begins to bring a hand up to caress your thigh gently. You jump back to your skin at the feeling, glancing down at him. The sight of his head hovering so close to you was almost unbearable, you nearly let a moan slip from your lips.
You know Copia sees it. You know he knows. Both flames burn brighter now, your cheeks alight in shame and lust, wishing you could evaporate, but unable to tell if you wanted to end up back in your room or in his.
“I, eh…” Copia speaks softly, and you can’t rip your eyes from him. He looks up and meets your gaze. “I would like you to tell me…” His hand slides slowly closer to your core, his fingers dancing along the wet skin. “If something hurts…”
You lose the ability to breathe, to think, to speak, as his fingers come to rest against the lips of your cunt almost imperceptibly. His touch jolts you, and he uses two fingers to spread you open, your wetness absolutely apparent to him. He drags his fingers up and down several times, and you gasp involuntarily. He flicks his eyes up and studies your face. “You feel hot, cara.” He raises his eyebrows and leans closer. “Are you hot?”
You stare down into his mismatched eyes, and you see something glittering behind them: lust. Unmistakable, you could spot it anywhere.
Copia doesn’t only know you’re wet for him; he likes it.
You give a single, slow nod, still not trusting your dry throat to get out words. Copia purses his lips and hums, returning his gaze to where his fingers are pressed against you. He pushes them against your skin a bit harder and you groan low in your throat.
“Well now, let me think…” Copia tilts his head mockingly, pretending to think. “How I can help…” He moves his palm to cup your arousal, spreading your slick against his glove. You shake, your hips bucking up into the warmth of his skin. He stands from his stool and looms over you, placing his free hand against the inside of your thigh.
“Now, doll, I told you to relax,” Copia coos. His voice has dropped an octave, his smooth voice low and gravelly. “Let me work, sí?"
You can’t help but whimper. You can barely comprehend what’s happening; all you can focus on is Doctor Fucking Emeritus, with his clean, gloved hand covered in your filth, staring at you like you’re a meal being brought to him.
“Tell me if this hurts, dear.” He moves his fingers from where they’re spreading you and instead presses two fingertips against your clit. It isn’t a soft or ginger touch, it’s a press, and he gives the little wet bundle of nerves a small roll.
“O-oh fuck!” You call out at the jolt of pleasure, hips thrusting up into the press of his fingers. The material of his glove drags against the wetness, pulling sweet pleasure out of you. Copia gives your clit another few circles, and then stops.
“Well?”
You gasp, desperate for him to move his fingers again. “N-no, it doesn’t hurt it—” Another breath punches its way out of your lungs when he presses against you again. “I-it feels good, doctor, it feels so good.”
“Brava,” he growls, hovering over your body. The hand against your thigh is gripping the skin tightly, pushing your leg even further away from your arousal, opening you further for him. He begins to work your clit again, faster than before, and you jump, gasping and moaning loudly in the wake of his ministrations. You grip the side of the exam table, your nails digging into the cushion hard enough to poke a hole, stuffing enveloping the tips of your fingers.
Just as you’re beginning to get lost in the sweet feeling of his fingers against you, Copia moves them, this time dipping them in between your folds, hovering over your entrance. “Indulge me, darling, while I check something. I’m, eh…” He tilts his head again, his hair falling further into his face. “Thorough.” As he finishes the sentence, he pushes both fingers inside of you.
You shriek, a sharp noise that echoes off the walls. The drag of the gloves is electrifying, the thick material catching and pulling the wet skin back and forth, creating a heated friction. He moves his fingers quickly, pumping in and out of you mercilessly. He dips them inside of you as deep as they can go, prodding your sweet spot over and over, the heat swirling in your belly, your head swimming in pleasure. Your mouth falls open, spilling wanton moans, one after the other.
“D-doctor, fuck!” Your head falls back, basking in the feeling of Copia’s fingers inside of you. “Th-that feels so good, fuck, don’t stop, doctor, please!”
Copia drags the hand holding your thigh up and covers your clit with his thumb, working it in circles in time with the brutal thrusts of his fingers. Your hips buck, moving back and forth to meet his movements.
“That’s it, dolce, move those hips for me, just like that,” His voice is a growl, words breaking into hitched breaths and broken moans. Your head falls to the side, and you see him moving his own hips, his clothed cock rubbing against the corner of the exam table, grinding against the cushion. The thrusts of his hips were mesmerizing, so smooth and sharp, and it only pushes you closer to the edge, his fingers dragging in and out rapidly. “Such a good girl you are for me, yes.”
Your hips begin to stutter. You’re close. He’s working you expertly, somehow so attuned to what your body wants from him. And yet…
You grab hold of Copia’s wrist, halting his movement. He stops his other hand, as well, looking up at you, concern melting into the lust in his eyes. You’re panting, desperate, and you’re ready to beg.
“More. Please, more.” You reach and loop a finger into one of his belt loops, pulling him into the table. His eyes roll back at the friction against his cock, and a low moan comes from him. You drag your palm down and lay it against his erection, feeling just how immaculately hard he is.
All for you.
“Get up here and fuck me, Doctor.”
Copia growls, removing his fingers from you entirely. He’s about to pull the soiled gloves from his hands when he stops and meets your eyes again. He leans over you and brings his slick covered fingers to your mouth. “Open wide, tesoro.”
You don’t hesitate even a second before wrapping your lips around his fingers, laving your tongue over the digits in your mouth, tasting yourself over the latex. You close your eyes and hum low, taking him all the way to his knuckles, letting him drag them in and out of your mouth several times. Copia smirks down at you and chuckles. “Remind me to test your throat next time, hm?”
He pulls his fingers from your mouth and takes his gloves off. You grab your gown and hike it up your body even further, removing your feet from the stirrups, opting instead to spread your legs naturally, heels perched on the edge of the exam table. Copia quickly undoes his belt, pushing his pants and underwear down his thighs in one go. You stare hungrily at him, taking in his cock. Fuck, he’s big.
Copia climbs onto the exam table, settling himself over you. He places his knees under your legs and on either side of your hips, the underside of your thighs resting on the top of his own. He leans forward, pushing your legs up, folding you as he grabs a fistful of your hips and drags the tip of his cock against your entrance. Your head falls back again, Copia’s hands coming to rest on either side of your head. He presses his body against yours and catches your lips with his, kissing your filthily. His tongue slips into your mouth and you reach around to tug on his hair, pulling him in deeper. You both moan into the kiss, and Copia’s hips shift forward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you.
The kiss breaks as you both groan, and he lifts himself up, staring down at you. The paint around his lips is smudged, messy blotches left smeared around his chin and likely onto yours. He moves again, pushing further into you, and you grapple for purchase against the backside of his jacket. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out , his hips flush against yours. He takes his hands from their position near your head and grabs your hips, pulling you against him, making sure you weren’t missing a single inch of him.
Your mewls and moans are high pitched and pathetic sounding, but you can’t focus on your own voice; not when Copia is inside of you.
“Cazzo, bambola, ti senti così bene,” His voice is choked and breathy, his hips beginning to roll, pulling his cock out of you, and pushing it back in to hit you just fucking right. Your back arches, trying to take him as deep as you possibly can.
Copia sets a tantalizing rhythm, rocking in and out of you, pulling you down onto his cock on every thrust into you. You push back, meeting him roughly, the skin of his hips slapping harshly against your own. It’s hard and fast, the table scraping back and forth on the floor with the force of your movements. Copia collapses forward, returning one hand to its place near your head, hips moving faster and faster, while the other hand slips under the small of your back, canting you upward, changing the angle so he can slam right into where you need him most, over and over and over.
“Ah-ah, y-yes, right there, th-that’s—” Your thoughts are muddled, hazy, focused on the sweet stretch of him, the stars blossoming behind your eyes as he fucks you faster.
Copia latches his mouth to your neck and sucks, nipping at the skin as his rhythm begins to falter. He’s close. You are too, teetering on the edge with every drag of him inside of you. He meets your eyes, fierce lust darkening his mismatched ones. He’s moaning as incoherently as you, whines pushing their way from his lungs.
“Mine,” he growls through gritted teeth. “This pretty little cunt of yours; it’s mine. Mine, all mine!”
You don’t expect his words, but fuck, do they stoke the fire inside of you. Your mouth opens wide, a scream erupting from you. “Y-yes, all for you, all yours, doctor.”
Copia’s eyes roll back and you feel his cock kick inside of you. “Sí, cazzo, sì, sì, bambola, fuck!” You feel him come apart inside of you, filling you up with everything he has to give. He pushes his hips tightly against yours in one last, hard thrust, a long moan releasing from his lungs as his hips stutter and his body shakes. Through his haze, he reaches between your legs and drags his fingers in circles over your clit, the rapid press of his skin all you need to hurl yourself over the edge after him, enamored with the sound of his moans, mixing them with your own as you throw your head back, your legs tightening and wrapping around Copia’s waist.
You both come down slowly, quietly, Copia lowering himself onto you, laying a head on your chest. He stays inside of you as your legs fall, hanging over the edge of the exam table. You can hear Copia breathing heavily, feel the rise and fall of his chest against you.
After a few minutes of silence, Copia props himself up on his elbows. He looks down at you as you open your eyes to meet his. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, then two to each cheek, one to the tip of your nose, and finally, one to your lips. You hum against him, savoring his taste before he pulls away. He pulls out of you and settles his feet back on the floor, pushing his hair back with one hand. You watch him put himself back together, being sure to first memorize how he looked when he was wrecked.
Copia latches the last part of his belt and smooths out his coat, and he looks as though nothing had happened, like he didn’t just fuck you to the hardest orgasm of your life on his flimsy exam table. Once he is the picture of professionalism once again, he reaches a hand out and helps you sit up. You smile at him. “Wow,” you whisper.
He laughs lightly. “Wow indeed, doll.” He takes the end of your gown and pulls it down to cover you, a sweet gesture that seems utterly unnecessary, but still makes your heart swell.
“So, uh…what do you think, Doctor?” You ask. “Am I okay?”
Copia quirks an eyebrow and giggles. “Well, eh, you seem alright to me, but…” he tilts his head again, a gesture of his that seems nearly compulsory, and you find to be absolutely adorable.
“I, eh, think you should schedule a follow-up to see me again.” He reaches out and caresses your face softly with both hands, planting another kiss on your lips, sighing contentedly against you.
“You know,” he whispers against you, “Just in case.”