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Sam Worthington (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sam_worthington) wrote,@ 2012-02-16 09:46:00 |
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Sam Worthington and Ryan kwanten: Doctor, Doctor
players only. backdated to early January, a few days after their vacation in Fiji.
warning for medical roleplay: speculum, metal gag, sounds
Ryan can barely sit still. He's got a date set with Sam -- it's in their own house, sure, but still, it's a scheduled organized type of thing, so Ryan figures it's a date. The supplies - well, toys - have all arrived, and just in the nick of time considering that Sam is about to set out on a whirlwind publicity tour for Man on a Ledge, and then Ryan will barely get to have a piece of him. Today, though, Ryan intends to get a big piece.
Although, he supposes it just might end up being the reverse.
He set up all the toys Sam had requested, laying them out on a stainless steel medical tray. Scalpels, lube, and one of the sets of sounds, plus a box of latex exam gloves and the new metal gag. The gag, well, it kind of scares the fucking hell out of him, looking like a steel cross between the speculum and a horse's bit and bridle. But Sam had told him specifically to order it. A spiky pinwheel, the new speculum he gave Sam for their anniversary, some funky-looking blunted scissors called hemostat clamps... and of course the fucking centerpiece for today, an actual full-size medical exam table, complete with stirrups. If Ryan weren't already pretty much scared shitless by the gag, then the table would definitely complete the job.
Dressed in black trousers and a blue shirt, with a white lab coat over both, Sam steps into the hall, file folder in hand. "Ryan Kwanten?" he calls, glancing over the top of his glasses at the row of chairs arranged along the wall.
Doing a quick double-take, Ryan stares at the way Sam has transformed himself. Then he shakes his head, trying to snap back to reality; well, a new supposed reality, anyway. "Um, yeah. Here. I mean, that's me," he says, getting to his feet. He nervously wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans. Fuck, he hates going to the doctor.
"Come on in," Sam says, leading him back into the examining room. "I'm Dr. Worthington. Your registration form says you haven't been to a doctor in years." He glances at Ryan again. "What brings you here today?"
"Um, just a check-up," Ryan answers, eyeing the stirrups nervously. Then reassuring himself that surely those are only for the female patients. He switches his attention to the doctor. "I'm starting a new job, so they just need a clean bill of health to put me on the insurance plan." He shrugs. "I'm really healthy."
Sam nods. "Well, we don't give anyone a clean bill of a health without a full exam," he says, picking up a sheet from beside the tray. "Take your clothes off and lie down. You can put that over your middle. I'll step out for a minute while you do that."
"All-- all my clothes?" Ryan asks, looking over his shoulder at the man and sounding a bit alarmed.
"Yes, of course," Sam says, looking at Ryan. "Go on," he tells him, pointing at the sheet, his hand already on the doorknob.
Well, shit. Ryan doesn't see how that's really necessary, but whatever. Maybe if he cooperates that'll get him out of here quicker. Leaning against the exam table, he bends down to untie his shoes. As he removes each item of clothing he folds it neatly and sets it aside on a chair, then he hops up onto the table. Lying back, he shakes out the sheet and covers up from his toes to his chest. "Ready," he calls out.
"Good," Sam says, coming back in and closing the door behind him. He takes a seat on a rolling stool and checks his clipboard which holds Ryan's file. "So you're thirty-five?"
"Right." Ryan stacks one of his arms beneath his head and stares up at the ceiling.
Sam doodles on a piece of paper and goes on. "And no family history of any diseases? Heart, lung, diabetes..?"
"Um. Uh. My cousin is learning-disabled?" Ryan shrugs. "My grandfather had skin cancer. But he spent a lot of time outside, because he was a rancher. That's pretty much it."
"Okay." Sam makes another note. "Are you sexually active?"
"Yeah. Of course. Is that important?" Ryan lifts his head to look quizzically at the doctor, but then lies back down again. "I mean, I always use condoms, so it doesn't matter. Right?"
"Just answer the questions, please," Sam says, rather enjoying himself although he's careful to keep his features blank. "Is your sexual activity with men or women?"
"Ahh, men," Ryan answers, feeling his face flush hot. He's not embarrassed about being gay; hell no, he's proud of who he is. But all this questioning by a stranger, while he's stark naked on an exam table? Fuck. An attractive stranger at that, but Ryan's been trying like hell not to notice.
"And you use condoms for all sexual activities?" Sam clarifies.
"Yeah, of course. I'm not stupid," Ryan answers, a little insulted. But he's pathologically honest, and his mouth runs on before he can stop it. "I mean, sometimes I..." No. He is not going there, and it really can't be medically important. "I'm always safe."
"Sometimes you...?" Sam looks up from his clipboard. "You know, the whole point of coming to a doctor is to tell them the truth. We can't help you if you withhold things from us, and it's not like anyone outside this room is ever going to know. I have to be able to give you a clean bill of health for your employer but that doesn't mean they get the actual details."
Ryan rolls his eyes, and his cheeks burn even hotter. "Sometimes I let them come in my mouth," he mutters, wishing he were anywhere but here. Christ. No wonder it's been years. "But I always use rubbers for anal sex."
"Okay. So we'll check your throat for any signs of STDs and despite the condom use, we'll still need to do a internal exam, check your prostate and your urethra," Sam says, standing up, the clipboard set aside on a table beside the tray.
"I don't have-- what?" Ryan pushes up to his elbows and looks at the doctor incredulously. "What... why... why do we have to do an internal exam? I'm fine. And I'm young. I thought that was all for, like, men in their seventies."
"Actually, prostate and testicular cancer are both showing up in young men in alarming numbers," Sam says, feeling down the sides of Ryan's neck, ostensibly checking his glands. "It's now procedure to check for both in all routine exams and physicals."
"Shit." Ryan frowns up at the ceiling and tries to relax, but it's even more difficult now than it was before. And this room is cold, damn it -- that can be the only reason for why he shivers once beneath the doctor's touch.
"I'm going to fold down the top of the sheet and check your chest," Sam warns his patient a moment before he does just that, leaving Ryan's chest bare, the sheet folded down to his waist. "You're in good shape," he tells him casually, sounding as clinical as possible as he rolls and pinches each nipple between his fingers.
"Yeah, I... I work out," Ryan mutters, distracted. He can't help his body's immediate response to those warm fingers, and damn it, why couldn't he have found some matronly female doctor? Shifting slightly on the table, he tries to mentally count backwards from one hundred.
With a quick glance at the way Ryan's cock is starting to tent the sheet, Sam assures him, "It's perfectly normal to react that way, and actually," he adds, "it makes it easier to do some of the exams." He pushes the sheet down further and takes Ryan in hand, pushing his foreskin back from the head.
"Jesus!" Ryan's up on his elbows again, staring. "God, don't warn me or anything." It's bizarre, being touched so intimately by someone he only just met -- okay, someone he only just met whom he didn't invite to touch him like that.
"Sorry. Sometimes if we warn you, we lose the moment," Sam says with a small smile. "Everything looks good from out here, but we'll still have to do the internal, check to make sure there's no urethral blockage." Christ, he's just making this shit up but he thinks it sounds pretty good. He reaches for a pair of latex gloves, making a big show of pulling them on and letting them snap against his skin. "Shift down a bit and put your feet up in the stirrups."
Horror paints Ryan's features, and he's a few seconds slow in following instructions. And damn this is awkward, scooting down the table and lifting his feet up, baring... well, everything really. It feels horribly vulnerable.
"This won't take too long," Sam says, picking up the metal speculum and the bottle of lube. "It's going to be cold and it might pinch a little but let me know if it actually hurts."
"...Okay." The sheet is bunched down around the tops of Ryan's thighs, and he's hoping like anything it'll stay there. He's not shy about nudity, not at all -- not under normal circumstances, anyway. But this is far from normal, in his opinion. He fists his hands at his sides, then relaxes them. Trying to think about something - anything - else.
Sam presses the tip of the speculum between Ryan's cheeks and into his hole, slowly but steadily pushing deeper.
"Oh Jesus. Oh Christ," Ryan mutters. Cold? Oh fuck yes. He chews on his bottom lip, trying not to squirm. But damn.
"Sorry. It'll warm up in a moment," Sam says, giving the speculum a slight twist that sees it completely seated.
Ryan winces, and the muscles of his ass tense up, which of course just makes things worse. "Sorry," he mutters, consciously relaxing once more. Fuck, this is embarrassing.
"It's okay, but I want you to relax for me. Take a deep breath and just relax. I'm going to slowly open this up," Sam tells him.
"Okay." Following the advice, Ryan breathes in deeply through his nose, then slowly blows the breath out through his mouth. The metal of the speculum is getting a touch warmer, he thinks.
Eyeing his patient, Sam takes his time opening the speculum, steadily stretching Ryan's hole with it. "Unusual tattoo," he says, careful to keep his touch as impersonal as possible for now.
Fuck fuck fuck. "Yeah. It's... yeah." What the hell is Ryan supposed to say to that? It wasn't exactly a compliment. He settles on the neutral, "It took a few hours. But the waxing beforehand hurt a whole lot worse." And okay, now he apparently can't shut up, but that speculum just feels weird.
"Did you do it for someone or just for yourself?" Sam asks, figuring he's allowed to show a little curiosity. He opens the speculum wider, locking it into place at its maximum width. "There we go."
Ryan winces at a sudden sharp pinch, but it fades swiftly. "For myself," he answers. "I just really loved the design. Hadn't seen one quite like that before." He can understand the questions. After all, his tattoo is freakin' huge; it would be more strange for the doctor not to comment, probably.
"It's very well-done," Sam says, slipping two gloved fingers inside the speculum and crooking them to stroke over Ryan's prostate.
"Christ!" Ryan damn near flies off the table. Okay, maybe he should have been expecting that, what with the whole speculum build-up. But shit that feels good, the touch firm but not harsh, and this is really not a good time. "Um. Are you done?"
"No, sorry. Your prostate needs to be checked from several angles -- inside and out and through the urethra. Just relax and be patient. The more tense you get, the harder it is for me to do the exam," Sam says, stroking that bundle of nerves even more firmly.
How the hell is Ryan supposed to be not tense? He's getting expertly fingered by a gorgeous stranger -- and okay, he never would have been having inappropriate thoughts about Doctor Worthington - not until after his appointment, anyway - but when the guy's inside him like this, talking in that sexy voice and telling him to relax... Fuck. It's a little too much like Saturday night for Ryan to just chill out and let his mind wander.
"Everything seems good from inside, but I'm going to leave you open while I do the urethral exam," Sam says, moving back around to Ryan's side and switching out one pair of gloves for another. "Are you familiar with sounds?"
"...No." And Ryan's not entirely paying attention to the question, either; he's too damn relieved to have those intimately probing fingers out of him. "Will it hurt?"
"It'll burn a little but I'll use lots of lube and the more you can relax, the easier it'll be," Sam says, uncovering the tray and reaching for the syringe and lube again.
"Okay." The movement draws Ryan's gaze and his eyes widen almost comically when he sees the syringe. "Wait, what's that?" he asks quickly, every nerve standing on edge. "Am I getting a shot?"
"No, it's plastic," Sam shows him the nozzle. "I need to put a little lubricant into your urethra. It'll make it easier for the sound to go in."
"...Okay." Ryan goes back to working on taking deep cleansing breaths. When the doctor pulls the sheet the rest of the way back, he's going to see without a doubt how hard that prostate exam made his patient...
Filling the syringe, Sam draws the sheet back, noting the way Ryan's cock springs to attention. "Unfortunately we can't do the exam when you're erect," he says, setting the syringe back down on the tray. "Maybe I should check your throat while we wait for it to subside," he suggests, his own cock already straining against his trousers, aching at the sight of Ryan with the sheet just barely covering him, his feet in the stirrups and his speculum-stretched hole completely exposed.
Ryan nearly protests but then catches himself, and has the good sense to wonder just what it is he would protest anyway. Having something jammed inside his cock? Yeah, he can wait on that, thanks. Dutifully he opens his mouth wide.
Picking up a small flashlight, Sam shines it down Ryan's throat, forcing his mouth open wider with a couple of fingers. "Not good enough," he says. "I need to see further. Keep your mouth open," he orders, turning back to the table for the metal medical gag. Christ. His brow furrows, and Ryan tries to follow the doctor's movements from his peripheral vision. Not good enough? What the hell does that mean?
"Here we go," Sam says, fitting the metal into Ryan's mouth before his boy can voice any complaints. "Open a little wider. If you need me to stop, you can tap the side of the tray."
Over the gag, Ryan's eyes flash with horror. What the fuck is this? It's worse than going to the dentist! He whimpers softly, the noise nearly a question.
"Don't worry. It won't be much longer," Sam says, tsk-ing slightly as he glances at Ryan's cock. "However. We do need that to go down, so this might hurt a little," he warns, picking up the blunted scissor clamps and closing them over Ryan's left nipple.
Ryan cries out in shock, and tries to form words around the gag. What the fuck is that for??? But it doesn't work; his attempted speech just comes out as garbled noise. He clutches at the sides of the table, his breathing coming fast and shallow. "No?" Sam shakes his head. "Maybe I should've guessed with a tattoo like that," he says. "You like a bit of a pain, don't you, Mr. Kwanten?"
Shaking his head - very carefully - in denial, Ryan wonders wildly if that question is actually medically relevant. How is it the doctor's business just how he gets off? Not like the guy doesn't already have a pretty good idea of his sexual history, however.
"No?" Sam says again. "Let's try the other one then." He fastens the second clamp onto Ryan's other nipple, tightening the tension on it.
Moaning, Ryan squirms on the table. Fuck, what the fuck are those things? He's got to get some of those to play with at home. But as far as reducing his erection goes, that plan is definitely not working out. He's pretty sure he's leaking precome at this point.
So much for the patient's protests. "If anything you're harder than ever," Sam says, picking up the syringe with the lube again. "Which means we'll just have to go ahead." He grasps Ryan's cock between his fingers and pushes the syringe tip into his slit, depressing the plunger to inject the full amount.
Ryan whimpers loudly, shocked by the sudden cold fullness. It feels so fucking weird, but it's true that there's no denying how completely aroused he is. And if anything, the doctor's unflinchingly merciless attitude just heightens the experience.
Christ. Sam is so fucking hard he can barely breathe much less remember his fucking role. "We'll start small," he says, reaching for the first size on the tray and lubing the sound itself. "Let me know if it hurts," he says with a downright wicked smile, pushing the tip into that small hole and groaning softly as it stretches so easily.
Let him know... how? Ryan's mouth is still stretched unnaturally wide -- as is his hole, for that matter. And now his cock... He groans, shutting his eyes and thumping his head back against the padded exam table, wicked shivers shooting through him as the sound slides deeper.
"I think this one might not be nearly big enough," Sam says, watching Ryan's reaction. He switches it out for two sizes up, quickly lubing the sound and pushing it in again, this time letting it go deeper, pressing it right to his prostate.
Ryan shouts, and there's no fucking way he can stop himself: his hips rock rapidly, automatically, so the sound fucks in and out of his cock. He's utterly shameless now, barely aware of what he's doing, just knowing he's seconds away from exploding into orgasm.
"You like that, do you, Mr. Kwanten?" Sam says, gripping Ryan's cock with one hand and using the other to fuck his hole with the sound, all pretense at any gentleness or professionalism completely gone. "Like your piss slit being fucked, your nipples clamped and your hole stretched open so wide I could fit my whole fist in there."
Moaning helplessly, Ryan wriggles, trying to get more, more... His body jerks like he's been struck by electricity and he comes hard, milky fluid seeping up around the sound and overflowing to drip down his cock. He's dizzy with pleasure, mind whited out.
"Hold your cock, Mr. Kwanten," Sam says, wrapping Ryan's fingers around his cock. "And don't take that out yet." He slips back between Ryan's legs, reaching between his cheeks to ease the speculum from his body, the gape making him groan as he unzips his trousers. "Fucking slut." He lines up and pushes in, gripping Ryan's thighs as he fucks his aching cock into his boy's open hole.
Ryan shouts and his muscles immediately clamp down tight around the intrusion. He holds onto himself with both hands, one on his cock and one keeping the sound fixed in place, and he lifts his feet from the stirrups, bringing his knees up to his chest to take even more.
"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," Sam groans, slamming into Ryan, so fucking on edge he's just barely holding on. Stabbing into his boy's hot hole, his orgasm right there, right fucking there, before he's shouting as it crashes over him, thick hot seed spurting into Ryan's ass, flooding his hole completely.
Whining around the metal gag, Ryan takes it. The boundaries of the scene are completely blurred now, his movements automatic as he reaches out for his lover, needing to feel Sam covering him.
"Good boy," Sam murmurs, draping himself over Ryan even as he's unfastening the hinge on the gag and getting it the hell out of Ryan's mouth. "So good for me," he murmurs, making quick work of the clamps on Ryan's nipples as well.
Ryan gasps and then licks his lips as soon as he's able, his jaw stretched and sore. His nipples burn as the blood rushes back in but all of that fades into a low buzz in the background. He just wants Sam.
"Here. Let me get this," Sam says, easing the sound from Ryan's cock and tossing it onto the tray before he wraps his arms around his lover again and kisses him softly. "Think you can stand?" he asks, wanting to move them both to the bed but not before Ryan's ready.
In response Ryan just moans, wanting to melt into his lover and completely let go of reality. He kisses Sam again and again, tangling his fingers in his lover's hair.
Sam grins into the kisses and gives Ryan another minute before shifting around the table and guiding Ryan off it, his arms locked around him. "C'mon," he urges, and it's pretty close to an order. "Bed."
It's a good thing Sam's got a firm hold on him, because Ryan starts shivering the second his bare feet touch the floor. He clings to his lover and makes his way the few necessary steps to climb onto the bed. He's still not ready to let go, though, immediately reaching for Sam and trying to pull him down as well
Hold on," Sam tells him. "Let me get my clothes off," he says, doing just that while he keeps his hands on Ryan as much as he can before finally stretching out beside him, body covering his, the blankets pulled up over them.
Grinning hazily, Ryan gently removes Sam's glasses and sets them aside on the nightstand. "I love you," he whispers, brushing his lips softly over Sam's. "Thank you for taking care of me."
Sam grins. "Thank you for indulging my fantasies," he murmurs against Ryan's mouth.
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
kwanten: Doctor, Doctorplayers only. backdated to early January, a few days after their vacation in Fiji.
warning for medical roleplay: speculum, metal gag, sounds
Ryan can barely sit still. He's got a date set with Sam -- it's in their own house, sure, but still, it's a scheduled organized type of thing, so Ryan figures it's a date. The supplies - well, toys - have all arrived, and just in the nick of time considering that Sam is about to set out on a whirlwind publicity tour for Man on a Ledge, and then Ryan will barely get to have a piece of him. Today, though, Ryan intends to get a big piece.
Although, he supposes it just might end up being the reverse.
He set up all the toys Sam had requested, laying them out on a stainless steel medical tray. Scalpels, lube, and one of the sets of sounds, plus a box of latex exam gloves and the new metal gag. The gag, well, it kind of scares the fucking hell out of him, looking like a steel cross between the speculum and a horse's bit and bridle. But Sam had told him specifically to order it. A spiky pinwheel, the new speculum he gave Sam for their anniversary, some funky-looking blunted scissors called hemostat clamps... and of course the fucking centerpiece for today, an actual full-size medical exam table, complete with stirrups. If Ryan weren't already pretty much scared shitless by the gag, then the table would definitely complete the job.
Dressed in black trousers and a blue shirt, with a white lab coat over both, Sam steps into the hall, file folder in hand. "Ryan Kwanten?" he calls, glancing over the top of his glasses at the row of chairs arranged along the wall.
Doing a quick double-take, Ryan stares at the way Sam has transformed himself. Then he shakes his head, trying to snap back to reality; well, a new supposed reality, anyway. "Um, yeah. Here. I mean, that's me," he says, getting to his feet. He nervously wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans. Fuck, he hates going to the doctor.
"Come on in," Sam says, leading him back into the examining room. "I'm Dr. Worthington. Your registration form says you haven't been to a doctor in years." He glances at Ryan again. "What brings you here today?"
"Um, just a check-up," Ryan answers, eyeing the stirrups nervously. Then reassuring himself that surely those are only for the female patients. He switches his attention to the doctor. "I'm starting a new job, so they just need a clean bill of health to put me on the insurance plan." He shrugs. "I'm really healthy."
Sam nods. "Well, we don't give anyone a clean bill of a health without a full exam," he says, picking up a sheet from beside the tray. "Take your clothes off and lie down. You can put that over your middle. I'll step out for a minute while you do that."
"All-- all my clothes?" Ryan asks, looking over his shoulder at the man and sounding a bit alarmed.
"Yes, of course," Sam says, looking at Ryan. "Go on," he tells him, pointing at the sheet, his hand already on the doorknob.
Well, shit. Ryan doesn't see how that's really necessary, but whatever. Maybe if he cooperates that'll get him out of here quicker. Leaning against the exam table, he bends down to untie his shoes. As he removes each item of clothing he folds it neatly and sets it aside on a chair, then he hops up onto the table. Lying back, he shakes out the sheet and covers up from his toes to his chest. "Ready," he calls out.
"Good," Sam says, coming back in and closing the door behind him. He takes a seat on a rolling stool and checks his clipboard which holds Ryan's file. "So you're thirty-five?"
"Right." Ryan stacks one of his arms beneath his head and stares up at the ceiling.
Sam doodles on a piece of paper and goes on. "And no family history of any diseases? Heart, lung, diabetes..?"
"Um. Uh. My cousin is learning-disabled?" Ryan shrugs. "My grandfather had skin cancer. But he spent a lot of time outside, because he was a rancher. That's pretty much it."
"Okay." Sam makes another note. "Are you sexually active?"
"Yeah. Of course. Is that important?" Ryan lifts his head to look quizzically at the doctor, but then lies back down again. "I mean, I always use condoms, so it doesn't matter. Right?"
"Just answer the questions, please," Sam says, rather enjoying himself although he's careful to keep his features blank. "Is your sexual activity with men or women?"
"Ahh, men," Ryan answers, feeling his face flush hot. He's not embarrassed about being gay; hell no, he's proud of who he is. But all this questioning by a stranger, while he's stark naked on an exam table? Fuck. An attractive stranger at that, but Ryan's been trying like hell not to notice.
"And you use condoms for all sexual activities?" Sam clarifies.
"Yeah, of course. I'm not stupid," Ryan answers, a little insulted. But he's pathologically honest, and his mouth runs on before he can stop it. "I mean, sometimes I..." No. He is not going there, and it really can't be medically important. "I'm always safe."
"Sometimes you...?" Sam looks up from his clipboard. "You know, the whole point of coming to a doctor is to tell them the truth. We can't help you if you withhold things from us, and it's not like anyone outside this room is ever going to know. I have to be able to give you a clean bill of health for your employer but that doesn't mean they get the actual details."
Ryan rolls his eyes, and his cheeks burn even hotter. "Sometimes I let them come in my mouth," he mutters, wishing he were anywhere but here. Christ. No wonder it's been years. "But I always use rubbers for anal sex."
"Okay. So we'll check your throat for any signs of STDs and despite the condom use, we'll still need to do a internal exam, check your prostate and your urethra," Sam says, standing up, the clipboard set aside on a table beside the tray.
"I don't have-- what?" Ryan pushes up to his elbows and looks at the doctor incredulously. "What... why... why do we have to do an internal exam? I'm fine. And I'm young. I thought that was all for, like, men in their seventies."
"Actually, prostate and testicular cancer are both showing up in young men in alarming numbers," Sam says, feeling down the sides of Ryan's neck, ostensibly checking his glands. "It's now procedure to check for both in all routine exams and physicals."
"Shit." Ryan frowns up at the ceiling and tries to relax, but it's even more difficult now than it was before. And this room is cold, damn it -- that can be the only reason for why he shivers once beneath the doctor's touch.
"I'm going to fold down the top of the sheet and check your chest," Sam warns his patient a moment before he does just that, leaving Ryan's chest bare, the sheet folded down to his waist. "You're in good shape," he tells him casually, sounding as clinical as possible as he rolls and pinches each nipple between his fingers.
"Yeah, I... I work out," Ryan mutters, distracted. He can't help his body's immediate response to those warm fingers, and damn it, why couldn't he have found some matronly female doctor? Shifting slightly on the table, he tries to mentally count backwards from one hundred.
With a quick glance at the way Ryan's cock is starting to tent the sheet, Sam assures him, "It's perfectly normal to react that way, and actually," he adds, "it makes it easier to do some of the exams." He pushes the sheet down further and takes Ryan in hand, pushing his foreskin back from the head.
"Jesus!" Ryan's up on his elbows again, staring. "God, don't warn me or anything." It's bizarre, being touched so intimately by someone he only just met -- okay, someone he only just met whom he didn't invite to touch him like that.
"Sorry. Sometimes if we warn you, we lose the moment," Sam says with a small smile. "Everything looks good from out here, but we'll still have to do the internal, check to make sure there's no urethral blockage." Christ, he's just making this shit up but he thinks it sounds pretty good. He reaches for a pair of latex gloves, making a big show of pulling them on and letting them snap against his skin. "Shift down a bit and put your feet up in the stirrups."
Horror paints Ryan's features, and he's a few seconds slow in following instructions. And damn this is awkward, scooting down the table and lifting his feet up, baring... well, everything really. It feels horribly vulnerable.
"This won't take too long," Sam says, picking up the metal speculum and the bottle of lube. "It's going to be cold and it might pinch a little but let me know if it actually hurts."
"...Okay." The sheet is bunched down around the tops of Ryan's thighs, and he's hoping like anything it'll stay there. He's not shy about nudity, not at all -- not under normal circumstances, anyway. But this is far from normal, in his opinion. He fists his hands at his sides, then relaxes them. Trying to think about something - anything - else.
Sam presses the tip of the speculum between Ryan's cheeks and into his hole, slowly but steadily pushing deeper.
"Oh Jesus. Oh Christ," Ryan mutters. Cold? Oh fuck yes. He chews on his bottom lip, trying not to squirm. But damn.
"Sorry. It'll warm up in a moment," Sam says, giving the speculum a slight twist that sees it completely seated.
Ryan winces, and the muscles of his ass tense up, which of course just makes things worse. "Sorry," he mutters, consciously relaxing once more. Fuck, this is embarrassing.
"It's okay, but I want you to relax for me. Take a deep breath and just relax. I'm going to slowly open this up," Sam tells him.
"Okay." Following the advice, Ryan breathes in deeply through his nose, then slowly blows the breath out through his mouth. The metal of the speculum is getting a touch warmer, he thinks.
Eyeing his patient, Sam takes his time opening the speculum, steadily stretching Ryan's hole with it. "Unusual tattoo," he says, careful to keep his touch as impersonal as possible for now.
Fuck fuck fuck. "Yeah. It's... yeah." What the hell is Ryan supposed to say to that? It wasn't exactly a compliment. He settles on the neutral, "It took a few hours. But the waxing beforehand hurt a whole lot worse." And okay, now he apparently can't shut up, but that speculum just feels weird.
"Did you do it for someone or just for yourself?" Sam asks, figuring he's allowed to show a little curiosity. He opens the speculum wider, locking it into place at its maximum width. "There we go."
Ryan winces at a sudden sharp pinch, but it fades swiftly. "For myself," he answers. "I just really loved the design. Hadn't seen one quite like that before." He can understand the questions. After all, his tattoo is freakin' huge; it would be more strange for the doctor not to comment, probably.
"It's very well-done," Sam says, slipping two gloved fingers inside the speculum and crooking them to stroke over Ryan's prostate.
"Christ!" Ryan damn near flies off the table. Okay, maybe he should have been expecting that, what with the whole speculum build-up. But shit that feels good, the touch firm but not harsh, and this is really not a good time. "Um. Are you done?"
"No, sorry. Your prostate needs to be checked from several angles -- inside and out and through the urethra. Just relax and be patient. The more tense you get, the harder it is for me to do the exam," Sam says, stroking that bundle of nerves even more firmly.
How the hell is Ryan supposed to be not tense? He's getting expertly fingered by a gorgeous stranger -- and okay, he never would have been having inappropriate thoughts about Doctor Worthington - not until after his appointment, anyway - but when the guy's inside him like this, talking in that sexy voice and telling him to relax... Fuck. It's a little too much like Saturday night for Ryan to just chill out and let his mind wander.
"Everything seems good from inside, but I'm going to leave you open while I do the urethral exam," Sam says, moving back around to Ryan's side and switching out one pair of gloves for another. "Are you familiar with sounds?"
"...No." And Ryan's not entirely paying attention to the question, either; he's too damn relieved to have those intimately probing fingers out of him. "Will it hurt?"
"It'll burn a little but I'll use lots of lube and the more you can relax, the easier it'll be," Sam says, uncovering the tray and reaching for the syringe and lube again.
"Okay." The movement draws Ryan's gaze and his eyes widen almost comically when he sees the syringe. "Wait, what's that?" he asks quickly, every nerve standing on edge. "Am I getting a shot?"
"No, it's plastic," Sam shows him the nozzle. "I need to put a little lubricant into your urethra. It'll make it easier for the sound to go in."
"...Okay." Ryan goes back to working on taking deep cleansing breaths. When the doctor pulls the sheet the rest of the way back, he's going to see without a doubt how hard that prostate exam made his patient...
Filling the syringe, Sam draws the sheet back, noting the way Ryan's cock springs to attention. "Unfortunately we can't do the exam when you're erect," he says, setting the syringe back down on the tray. "Maybe I should check your throat while we wait for it to subside," he suggests, his own cock already straining against his trousers, aching at the sight of Ryan with the sheet just barely covering him, his feet in the stirrups and his speculum-stretched hole completely exposed.
Ryan nearly protests but then catches himself, and has the good sense to wonder just what it is he would protest anyway. Having something jammed inside his cock? Yeah, he can wait on that, thanks. Dutifully he opens his mouth wide.
Picking up a small flashlight, Sam shines it down Ryan's throat, forcing his mouth open wider with a couple of fingers. "Not good enough," he says. "I need to see further. Keep your mouth open," he orders, turning back to the table for the metal medical gag. Christ. His brow furrows, and Ryan tries to follow the doctor's movements from his peripheral vision. Not good enough? What the hell does that mean?
"Here we go," Sam says, fitting the metal into Ryan's mouth before his boy can voice any complaints. "Open a little wider. If you need me to stop, you can tap the side of the tray."
Over the gag, Ryan's eyes flash with horror. What the fuck is this? It's worse than going to the dentist! He whimpers softly, the noise nearly a question.
"Don't worry. It won't be much longer," Sam says, tsk-ing slightly as he glances at Ryan's cock. "However. We do need that to go down, so this might hurt a little," he warns, picking up the blunted scissor clamps and closing them over Ryan's left nipple.
Ryan cries out in shock, and tries to form words around the gag. What the fuck is that for??? But it doesn't work; his attempted speech just comes out as garbled noise. He clutches at the sides of the table, his breathing coming fast and shallow. "No?" Sam shakes his head. "Maybe I should've guessed with a tattoo like that," he says. "You like a bit of a pain, don't you, Mr. Kwanten?"
Shaking his head - very carefully - in denial, Ryan wonders wildly if that question is actually medically relevant. How is it the doctor's business just how he gets off? Not like the guy doesn't already have a pretty good idea of his sexual history, however.
"No?" Sam says again. "Let's try the other one then." He fastens the second clamp onto Ryan's other nipple, tightening the tension on it.
Moaning, Ryan squirms on the table. Fuck, what the fuck are those things? He's got to get some of those to play with at home. But as far as reducing his erection goes, that plan is definitely not working out. He's pretty sure he's leaking precome at this point.
So much for the patient's protests. "If anything you're harder than ever," Sam says, picking up the syringe with the lube again. "Which means we'll just have to go ahead." He grasps Ryan's cock between his fingers and pushes the syringe tip into his slit, depressing the plunger to inject the full amount.
Ryan whimpers loudly, shocked by the sudden cold fullness. It feels so fucking weird, but it's true that there's no denying how completely aroused he is. And if anything, the doctor's unflinchingly merciless attitude just heightens the experience.
Christ. Sam is so fucking hard he can barely breathe much less remember his fucking role. "We'll start small," he says, reaching for the first size on the tray and lubing the sound itself. "Let me know if it hurts," he says with a downright wicked smile, pushing the tip into that small hole and groaning softly as it stretches so easily.
Let him know... how? Ryan's mouth is still stretched unnaturally wide -- as is his hole, for that matter. And now his cock... He groans, shutting his eyes and thumping his head back against the padded exam table, wicked shivers shooting through him as the sound slides deeper.
"I think this one might not be nearly big enough," Sam says, watching Ryan's reaction. He switches it out for two sizes up, quickly lubing the sound and pushing it in again, this time letting it go deeper, pressing it right to his prostate.
Ryan shouts, and there's no fucking way he can stop himself: his hips rock rapidly, automatically, so the sound fucks in and out of his cock. He's utterly shameless now, barely aware of what he's doing, just knowing he's seconds away from exploding into orgasm.
"You like that, do you, Mr. Kwanten?" Sam says, gripping Ryan's cock with one hand and using the other to fuck his hole with the sound, all pretense at any gentleness or professionalism completely gone. "Like your piss slit being fucked, your nipples clamped and your hole stretched open so wide I could fit my whole fist in there."
Moaning helplessly, Ryan wriggles, trying to get more, more... His body jerks like he's been struck by electricity and he comes hard, milky fluid seeping up around the sound and overflowing to drip down his cock. He's dizzy with pleasure, mind whited out.
"Hold your cock, Mr. Kwanten," Sam says, wrapping Ryan's fingers around his cock. "And don't take that out yet." He slips back between Ryan's legs, reaching between his cheeks to ease the speculum from his body, the gape making him groan as he unzips his trousers. "Fucking slut." He lines up and pushes in, gripping Ryan's thighs as he fucks his aching cock into his boy's open hole.
Ryan shouts and his muscles immediately clamp down tight around the intrusion. He holds onto himself with both hands, one on his cock and one keeping the sound fixed in place, and he lifts his feet from the stirrups, bringing his knees up to his chest to take even more.
"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," Sam groans, slamming into Ryan, so fucking on edge he's just barely holding on. Stabbing into his boy's hot hole, his orgasm right there, right fucking there, before he's shouting as it crashes over him, thick hot seed spurting into Ryan's ass, flooding his hole completely.
Whining around the metal gag, Ryan takes it. The boundaries of the scene are completely blurred now, his movements automatic as he reaches out for his lover, needing to feel Sam covering him.
"Good boy," Sam murmurs, draping himself over Ryan even as he's unfastening the hinge on the gag and getting it the hell out of Ryan's mouth. "So good for me," he murmurs, making quick work of the clamps on Ryan's nipples as well.
Ryan gasps and then licks his lips as soon as he's able, his jaw stretched and sore. His nipples burn as the blood rushes back in but all of that fades into a low buzz in the background. He just wants Sam.
"Here. Let me get this," Sam says, easing the sound from Ryan's cock and tossing it onto the tray before he wraps his arms around his lover again and kisses him softly. "Think you can stand?" he asks, wanting to move them both to the bed but not before Ryan's ready.
In response Ryan just moans, wanting to melt into his lover and completely let go of reality. He kisses Sam again and again, tangling his fingers in his lover's hair.
Sam grins into the kisses and gives Ryan another minute before shifting around the table and guiding Ryan off it, his arms locked around him. "C'mon," he urges, and it's pretty close to an order. "Bed."
It's a good thing Sam's got a firm hold on him, because Ryan starts shivering the second his bare feet touch the floor. He clings to his lover and makes his way the few necessary steps to climb onto the bed. He's still not ready to let go, though, immediately reaching for Sam and trying to pull him down as well
Hold on," Sam tells him. "Let me get my clothes off," he says, doing just that while he keeps his hands on Ryan as much as he can before finally stretching out beside him, body covering his, the blankets pulled up over them.
Grinning hazily, Ryan gently removes Sam's glasses and sets them aside on the nightstand. "I love you," he whispers, brushing his lips softly over Sam's. "Thank you for taking care of me."
Sam grins. "Thank you for indulging my fantasies," he murmurs against Ryan's mouth.
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
