Archive of Our Own ^beta

I feel like this day is even longer than yesterday. Each of my patients annoys me a little more.

My first patient of the day, a little boy, had only a simple fever. But his mother who accompanied him seemed to have visited all the medical forums on the web and was convinced that her child had lung cancer.

I hate these stupid forums. Whatever your symptoms, it only takes a few comments to think that you have contracted a tropical disease when you are never out of the state.

My second patient was an old man with a heart condition who wanted me to prescribe him viagra at all costs.

I stopped counting from the third patient. And I acted as if the insults and threats that seemed to accompany each visit were normal.

I wanted to become a doctor to help people who are suffering but without realizing the low regard that same people have for those who try to help them.

I sigh and try to chase away the onset of my depression, remembering that I could relax tonight. 

Fiona invited us all to her house to enjoy the garden and the swimming pool.

I look forward to seeing all of my brothers and sisters and playing with my nieces and nephews, not to mention the food and alcohol.

A little more motivated, I get up and go to the waiting room to bring in the next patient.

I look at the card that my assistant put on my desk and frown when I see the indecipherable first name marked on it.

To avoid starting on the wrong base, I simply decide to call the patient by his last name. Given the originality of the latter, there must not be fourteen people with this name in the room.

“Mr. Milkovich?”

I look around and finally perceive out of the corner of my eye a man getting up with difficulty.

I shift by holding the door to tell him to enter my office while wondering what is taking him so long.

He's advancing almost as slowly as some of my seventieth patients.

For a moment I meet his gaze, and I regret it immediately. I'm sure this guy could kill someone with the glow of his eyes.

I quickly look away and finally raise my head only when he has entered my office and I can close the door behind him.

I suggest he to sit down and I sit at my desk, but he remains standing without a word.

"You don't want to sit down?"

"If I wanted to sit I would have done it!"

I take a deep breath and try to override my desire to answer him.

I know that I can't react to my patients' words, but that they can safely file a complaint if they don't like mine.

"What can I do for you?"

My question seems to disappoint him, yet I imagine that when he came here he anticipated us to ask him some.

He, who seemed so sure of himself and so proud, finally looks away and I can almost perceive red blushing his cheeks.

I hesitate to ask him more questions, but I'm pretty sure it won't help anymore.

"I have something to take off."

“Ok… You have to be more precise. An ingrown toenail? A pustule? An organ?"

He glares at me again, but this time I read a hint of laughter.

"You think you're funny?!?"

"I find myself hilarious."

Again the silence invades the room and the fun I could see on his face disappears for a much harsher expression.

"Everything I say here is confidential, right? You have no right to talk to anyone about it?!? ”

I nod my head, wondering a little more about the reason for his coming.

He chews on his lower lip and runs a hand over the back of the neck. I do not know which of us is the most disturbed by the situation.

He still seems divided at the idea of explaining the situation in more detail, and I take advantage of his silence to try to guess by observing him.

After a long minute, I come to the conclusion that I am not a medium and that I need more details to understand what is going on, but also that this guy is totally my type.

I’m convinced that he’s straight, that’s the case with guys like him, I mean those who attract me.

I have the curse of being attracted only by straights. 

Or by gays who pretend to be straight and who therefore have a wife, children and a false marriage that they don't want to ruin for me.

In fact, for him, I agree to stay a dirty little secret.

I wonder what is hidden under these jeans. It isn't very tight yet I can easily distinguish the curves of his thighs.

For a moment I imagine what it would be like to caress them, to kiss them ... Fuck! I have to stop! I'm a real doctor, not a porn movie one.

"I have something stuck. I tried to remove it but I can't do it alone ... ”

His confession disturbs me even more. I’m having a hard time figuring out where he might have stuck something. Okay, well, I have a lot of ideas about where things could get stuck, but I can't see him ending up in the situations I imagine.

I try to find my seriousness before speaking, but it is not easy when dozens of more or less decadent scenarios are playing out in my head.

“When you say stuck… You mean-”

“My ass! I got something stuck in my ass! "

How to react to that? The professional in me makes me just nod and offer him to lie on the exam table to investigate the problem. The pervert in me wants to ask him as many questions as possible to know when, where, how, with whom. While the last part of me is gloating over the hope that this guy is finally gay.

Ok, straights can also put things in their ass. And even if he's gay that doesn't mean he'll want to date or sleep with me. And even if he wants it's not professional.

“I need to examine you. Take off your pants and boxers and sit on the exam table, please. ”

I think I'm going to join a theater troupe. 

Having managed to pronounce this sentence while remaining professional despite the images I have in my mind is a great acting game.

I see him out of the corner of my eye undoing his jeans and sliding it against his ass then along his legs.

I was right, he has legs to die for. But what I hadn't noticed was the cable of this ass. Fuck! It makes me want to caress it, lick it, bite it and even spank it until it blushes.

I breathe deeply and pull a little on the front of my pants before getting up.

I hope my semi-erection isn't visible.

I know I said I wasn't a porn character, but this guy is changing my mind.

I hope my professionalism will take over and that he will not notice the effect it has on me.

I don’t think he would like to see his doctor with an erection.

He looks at me with both hands on his cock, and I guess he doesn't know how to settle down.

“Sit on all fours on the table and arch your back.”

I sense that he is hesitating, and I think everyone would hesitate in this situation, and I try to relax him by looking as professional as possible.

I wash my hands and put on latex gloves before moving a few bottles on my worktop.

I don't plan to use any of these products, but I want to give him enough time to set up, and also have enough time to regain control of the situation.

"How did it happen?"

"Do I have to make you a drawing?!?"

The contrast between the intonation of his voice and his position on the table is striking. Part of me sadistically wants to make him give up that little smug look.

I stand behind him and ask him to arch a little more while placing my hands on his buttocks.

I need all the concentration in the world to remember where I am and why, so much the spectacle which is offered to me disturbs me.

"You're lucky, it's stuck near the entrance."

"Lucky?!?"

"Yes. Usually, the objects inserted in this part of the body are naturally drawn inside due to the natural functioning of the rectum. If that had been the case, we would have had to plan an operation. Here I think it's gonna be possible to remove it without going through the operating table."

"What are you waiting for then?!?"

I pretend I am not disturbed by his remarks, or even by the situation, and I go back to my cupboards to take out a new bottle that I bring behind my patient as well as a small set of forceps and surgical tool.

"What the fuck is that?"

“Lubricant and some stuff to get this object out of.”

I wait a few moments to see if he answers me, or rather if he tells me to fuck off, but before his silence, I start.

"Put your head against the table and your hands on your buttocks to keep them apart."

I could ask an assistant to come to help me, but I think my patient would not like the idea, so I have to put him to work.

He obeys without complaining which is surprising.

I pour a little lubricant between his buttocks and get down to spreading his hole gently while trying not to push back the inserted object.

I saw a little bit of string a while ago and I think I can pull it out with it.

I have a hard time seeing what it can be. At first glance, I would have said ben-wa-ball, but this size is unlikely.

I grab the small pliers that I put next to me and I manage to grab the end of the string to pull it towards me.

I know I couldn’t use it to remove the entire object, but hopefully, it will be strong enough for me to hang another type of link on it.

I ask my patient not to move while I grab a needle and surgical thread kit.

"As if I had the choice!"

His answer snatches me a little smile which I try to drive out as quickly as possible.

I position myself behind him. Pull a little more on the end of the string with my pliers and roughly hook the surgical thread by sewing it as best as I can.

There is nothing very orthodox about this technique, but hopefully, it will work.

“I'm going to start pulling at it. You would have to push to help me. ”

I suspect that he is not gonna answer me and I slowly start to pull, hoping that the string will not break.

A few seconds later I have to reconsider my judgment. This is a ben-wa ball.

I hear my patient breathing harder and I let myself observe the scene unfolding before my eyes with a much less professional look.

His legs are shaking gently and because of his position, there is no way to hide his erection from me.

I breathe deeply and try to drive my unclean ideas away from my mind.

This guy has the amazing ability to destroy my professionalism.

The only solution I see is to put an end to the situation as quickly as possible.

“I'm going to get the rest out. Keep pushing. ”

I grab the ball that I managed to get out and gently pull it until I get out the second one.

I repeat until I take them all out, more and more amazed at the number of balls he had in him.

I hear him coming when I remove the last one and pretends not to have noticed. I turn around to throw away my used tools and put the rest in the sink or on the shelves.

“You can get dressed.”

I don't even turn to him saying that. Not because I'm ashamed of what just happened to him, but rather because I'm on the verge of imitating him and hoping to hide my condition.

* - * - *

I gulp down my beer in the hope that no one notices and quickly throw the bottle in the trash before taking another in the fridge.

A few hours before I was looking forward to spending a good evening with my family, and now I regret being there.

I love my family, and I love spending time with them. But since this guy left my office, I only think of him.

The fact that he noticed the bump in my pants when I said goodbye didn't really help me calm down.

I'm trying to be interested in what Lip is telling me, but all I care about is this guy.

I only know his family name and his illegible first name, and I am sure I will never see him again.

He must have chosen the doctor furthest from home to make sure he was not seen by anyone he knew.

I still don’t know if he’s gay or just a curious straight guy, even though the size of this sex toy would make me favor the first option. But whether he's gay, straight, single, married, or even pope, my subconscious doesn't care. And I am sure that tonight my dreams will be invaded by this guy.

To be honest, I have only one desire, to leave this evening to find my bed, and to hope to see him again in my dream.

* - * - *

I sigh as I close the door behind my patient.

This guy was so stubborn. He did not want to listen to me and wanted at all costs a drug which was not adapted to him, just because he used to take it.

If my next patient is like him I would end up being violent.

People come to us for treatment but don't want to listen to us.

I sit back at my desk and close my eyes letting my thoughts take me away from all these problems.

Again, my mind is taking me to a very different patient.

Since he left my office I have only dreamed of him, and not a day goes by without the hope of seeing him again.

My imagination tortures me a little more every day, pushing me to imagine what could happen between us if only... If only I meet him again and if he is gay and single... In other words, if we live in A fairy tale.

I grab the next patient file. The only solution I have left now is to forget him, and for that nothing better than an unsupportable patient.

I walk to the door of my office and wait until I'm in the waiting room to open the file and look for my patient's name.

My heart is racing when I see this illegible first name. I look up and look around to make sure I'm not hallucinating.

A young man stands up and displays a satisfied smile.

"I think it's my turn."

Without waiting for my confirmation, he walks past me and enters my office.

I follow him and close the door behind him.

Finding my composure seems impossible to me, but I do the best I can while settling behind my desk.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Milkovich?”

"Mickey. My name is Mickey. ”

This illegible first name can't be pronounced so easily, but Mickey suits him very well. I don’t know how a simple first name makes me feel like I know him much more personally.

"What can I do for you, Mickey?"

He shows a big smile and I feel my heart panicking with impatience.

He puts the bag he was holding in his hand on the table and tells me to look at it with a quick nod.

I push aside the sides of the bag and take out the box it contains. I hardly opened the cover when my heart accelerated again, to the point of hearing it ringing in my head.

The box contains a model similar to the ben-wa-ball from last time. I even wonder if they aren't even larger.

"I figured it would be safer for me to have a doctor with me to avoid the problems if I wanted to have fun with it again... just in case that rope breaks again..."

I look up at him. He displays a cocky smile while ostentatiously biting his lower lip.

I'm trying to regain control of my body. I close the box and get up.

"Take off your pants and boxers before you sit on the exam table."

I take the box with me and follow him to the table.

I wonder where it all takes me, but right now I have a patient I need to take care of.