Casey's never liked doctor's offices--they're so stark and cold, so determined to render him vulnerable. This one is particularly irritating thanks to the shitty gown he has to wear, far too thin and gaping in all the wrong places.
He wraps his arms around himself and glares at the examination table, tapping his foot as he waits, waits, waits... He's a busy man, but does this asshole care? Nooo. He considers grabbing his clothes and ditching, but wherever he goes will be just as bad and make him fuck around with health insurance to boot.
So instead he makes himself wait, until he's ready to rip open the cabinets and see if he can find anything explosive. Hell, maybe that's the only way to get the doc's attention, maybe he's been completely forgotten....
"Good morning, Mr. Jones!"
Casey rolls his eyes. "It's still morning? Took ya long enough."
The smug grin on that olive green face doesn't waver. "Someone's in a cranky mood today," Donnie chides, adjusting the folds of that ridiculously sexy lab coat he insisted on wearing. "Did we sleep poorly last night?"
"I slept just fine, assha--fuck!" Donnie gives him a nice hard smack on the ass, having crowded into his personal space way too quickly for Casey's comfort.
"Naughty, naughty, Mr. Jones," he chides, wagging a finger like a fucking schoolteacher. His other hand grabs Casey's sore butt cheek, digging into the skin until Casey has to choke down a groan. "You're not getting any candy if you keep being such a...brat."
A thousand words fly through Casey's mind--cocksucker, cowface, controlling--but his ass is sore enough as it is, so he throws up his hands with a groan. "Fine. You're the boss, Doc."
"Good boy." Donnie gives him a dainty little pat on the ass, nudging him towards the table. "Now, get up there and put your legs in those stirrups.
Casey rolls his eyes, but does as he's told, biting his lips the cool restraints slide over his skin. He manages to flip the front of his gown over his groin, although he doubts it'll do much good in the long run.
"Very nice." Donnie looms over him, looking Casey up and down with a proprietary air. He draws a hand down Casey's chest, poking lightly at his abs. "You've been working out?"
"I like to keep myself in shape for the ladies," Casey says, with a wink and a cocksure grin. Donnie's eyes narrow and he gives a hard pinch. "Ow!"
"My apologies," Donnie says sweetly.
"Jealous fuck," Casey mutters.
Donnie ignores him. "Now, how are we doing orally?"
And, well, Casey can't resist the temptation. "Workin' out all the right muscles, just like ya ordered, doc," he says, waggling his tongue.
Donnie doesn't grace him with so much as a blush. "Yes, you do have a tendency for chatter," he says absentmindedly, as if those very talented muscles haven't been wrapped around his cock on the regular for weeks now. Repressed prick.
"Say 'ah,' please." Casey rolls his eyes, but obediently opens his mouth, unable to avoid a little apprehension as he watches Donnie slip on rubber gloves. Maybe it's weird for a guy who spends most of his time in a hockey mask, one way or another, but he really doesn't like choking on plastic.
But the fingers Donnie carefully pushes into his mouth are...sweet? "Grape flavor," he explains. "I can be very thoughtful when I have reason. Now, why don't you be a good patient and show more of those famous muscles?"
Oh, what the hell. Casey hollows his cheeks and sucks, lapping and poking at the fingers in a way that works wonders for Donnie's cock. And indeed, Casey can see the egghead shifting from foot to foot, a bit of emotion rippling across that professional facade.
Casey smiles as devilishly as he can with fingers in his mouth and works harder. He rolls his tongue around Donnie's fingers, enjoying the way they ripple and curve at his touch, the strength in them under his control...
"That's enough," Donnie says, his voice slightly high as he abruptly tugs his hand out of Casey's mouth.
"You sure? I can go all night if ya want." But Donnie just reaches down and abruptly yanks Casey's gown open. "Hey!"
"Relax, Mr. Jones," Donnie chides, resting his hand on Casey's stomach and rubbing slow circles in a gesture that would almost be soothing if Casey didn't know what a perv his doctor was. "This is standard procedure."
"Standard procedure my ass...." But Casey's voice trails off and he looks away quickly as Donnie bends down, running a too-warm tongue over the curve of one nipple. He flicks it oh so gently and Casey whimpers, unable to block out the soft spike of pleasure.
"Mmmm..." Donnie moves to the other nipple and flicks even harder, triggering a louder gasp. "Very responsive," he murmurs into Casey's skin, and god, that clinical voice is even more of a turn-on from this angle.
But Casey wouldn't be the Jones if he gives up this easily, so he does his best to rally. "Jealousy's a bad look on ya, doc."
Donnie's hand blurs, twisting one nipple, and Casey's wheezes at the fresh burst of stimulation. "Son of a bitch!"
"Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones..." Donnie shakes his head as he straightens up, still holding Casey's throbbing nipple. "You're never going to get better with that attitude."
"I ain't sick," Casey grits out.
"You could be." Donnie's other hand drifts to Casey's thigh. I could diagnose you with all sorts of terrible things, order you locked up safe and tight in quarantine. Make sure I was the only one who was allowed to look at you...." He squeezes the thigh and nipple at the same time, and Casey jolts. "...to touch you."
"You wouldn't." His cock is stirring between the legs at the idea of himself sealed away in a little room, naked and helpless and totally under Donnie's control, but he manages to keep his voice steady. "I'd kill ya first before I let anyone lock me down."
"Is that so?" Donnie lets go of him, but only so he can reach down and--yeah, Casey knew that would happen. He squirms at the cold air wafting over his junk. "That's not what little Mr. Jones seems to think."
"As if you're so high an' mighty." Casey shoots a significant look at the small, but rapidly growing bulge in Donnie's coat. "Pretty damn unprofessional, ain't it, Doc?"
The bastard just shrugs. "Can you blame me? It's hard to remain completely indifferent with such an.....intriguing patient." Casey squirms as those big bright eyes crawl over him, unable to avoid how nice it feels.
Guys shouldn't want to be ogled by other guys like that. Then again, there's a lot of stuff guys shouldn't want that Donnie makes him want.
Take the clever, callused hands currently sliding across Casey's hips, tapping at his hip bones like computer keys. Donnie gracefully sinks to his knees between Casey's legs like he's in the dojo, the motion so elegant Casey feels a sudden urge to jump him right there.
But he stays still, because he wants to be a good patient for Don. He wants to be everything for Don.
"Your reproductive organs are developing nicely," Donnie muses, reaching out to run a soft hand over Casey's sack. "Good pubic growth, too. Nice and healthy." He taps Casey's balls, chuckling when he jumps. "Feeling sensitive, I see."
Casey blushes. "B-big talk from somebody who doesn't have any nuts to speak of." He's braced for a punishment, but he still can't avoid letting out an incoherent squeak when Donnie squeezes both his balls, hard.
"Sorry," Donnie says, not sounding sorry at all. "Have to check for lumps."
"Bastard..." Casey groans as those ridiculous fucking hands rolls over his throbbing nuts and down his length, tugging and poking at his tender flesh. Donnie's good at this, better than he has any right to be.
Casey can feel himself swell as Donnie rounds the head and starts back down again, squeezing and pulling. All too soon he'll be pulled over the edge and he can't wait for that, the chance to give Don a nice faceful of--
Donnie gives him a sharp squeeze and abruptly lets go, getting back on his feet and stepping away from the table. "Motherfucker!" Casey growls.
"Temper, temper." Donnie's not even looking at him now. "You really need to work on that." He holds up something with a triumphant huff, and Casey sucks in a breath when it catches the light.
"The fuck do you need that for?" he growls, doing his best to hide his excitement as Donnie carries the lube back over to him.
"Relax, Mr. Jones," he says. "You're almost done. I just need to give you a quick rectal exam."
"Rectal excuse me?"
"Prostate cancer is a very serious issue," Donnie says, pouring a glob of fingers over his hand. He rubs his fingers together, the movements slow and precise--Casey wills himself not to drool. "I'm afraid that propriety has to come second to thoroughness in cases like these."
"You high on your supply, doc?" Casey tenses, but the stirrups have a firm grip on his legs. "Gotta be if ya think I'm just gonna roll over for you."
"Do you really want to play coy?" Donnie asks, brushing a meaningful finger along Casey's erection, which is happily swelling back to life. "If you like I can have some of my biggest, strongest orderlies come in and hold you down. Who knows, if you insist on making me angry I might have to share you with them afterwards. What do you say?"
Casey swallows hard, heart thudding in his chest. "Fine." He looks away, gritting his teeth. "Do your worst, asshole."
"Eyes on me, Mr. Jones. You wouldn't want to risk me getting away with anything improper, would you?" Casey groans, but does as he's told, meeting Donnie's eyes as the dickwad settles back down between his legs.
Cold fingers part his cheeks, and oh fuck Casey can feel air down there. He whimpers.. "Good color, nice and tender." Donnie murmurs approvingly. "You haven't been used here much, have you? Or not nearly as much as you would like."
When Casey doesn't reply he adds, a bit of steel in his words, "That wasn't a rhetorical question, Mr. Jones."
"Uhhh..." Casey wants to fold in on himself, not sure whether he's more confused by how easily Donnie manages to humiliate him or how much he loves it. "Yeah, I've had it a few times."
"And you want more? Want this charming little hole to be filled?"
"Y-yes."
"Excellent. Relax, Mr. Jones." That's all the warning Casey gets before one of those fingers is plunging inside him. He can see them slipping between his cheeks, into his hole, but that somehow makes the icy shock worse--and better, all at the same time. He arches, a wanton moan curling up out of his stomach before he can gather himself to stop it.
"Tight," Donnie whispers, voice trembling every so slightly as he shifts his finger around. "You're quite a snug fit, Mr. Jones." He pushes in another one and spreads his fingers, forcing Casey's hips to jerk and tremble with every movement. "We'll have to fix that."
He begins kissing Casey's trembling thighs as he fingers him, nibbling and sucking oh so gently at Casey's freckles. Casey can hear himself shudder and sighing like a girl, his breath rising up into a squeal when Donnie adds another finger. He thinks there might be some drool gathering on his chin.
Donnie's other hand is between his legs now. Oh god, is he touching himself? Casey lifts his head to try and make out, but he can't see. He wonders if Donnie is as gloriously hard as he is right now, his cock bobbing with every thrust of Donnie's hand.
And those fingers keep pushing, pushing, pushing until Donnie lets out a little cry of triumph. Or at least Casey thinks he does, because he's a little distracted by a fresh burst of sensation filling up his guts. "Fuck!" he shrieks.
"There we are," Donnie croons, petting and rubbing his prostrate like a fucking cat. "I can't find anything untoward. How are we feeling, Mr. Jones?"
"Nnnah..."
"You're going to," Donnie sucks in a breath, obviously pulling himself back under control, "have to be clearer about how you're feeling so I can give a proper diagnosis--"
"Good," Casey groans, grinding down on Donnie's hand. He wonders suddenly if Donnie's recording this, if he's going to get off later on the sight of Casey being undone, and the idea nearly makes him come right there. "So fucking good, Doc, please--"
"Excellent." Donnie abruptly pulls those fingers out of him and starts to fucking stand up, wearing an expression that makes Casey want to set him on fire. "Now, if we're done here!"
"You son of a--don't you dare leave me like this!"
Donnie looks down at him with an expression of mock confusion. "Are you feeling uncomfortable, Mr. Jones?"
"Just stop fucking around and fuck me!" Casey roars.
"Why, Mr. Jones." Donnie shrugs off the coat so Casey can see his cock, standing tall and proud and oh so delectable. "I thought you'd never ask."
He's on Casey in an instant, pinning him to the lab table as that big, beautiful cock slides in his loosened hole. Donnie tosses his head back with a ringing churr, fingers wrapping loosely around Casey's throat. "G-got to mon-monitor your heart rate," he rasps, and thrusts.
Well, Casey's heart rate must be going crazy, because the rest of him sure as shit is. "You fucker," he rasps, "You pretentious pencil-dicked--ah!" He gasps as Donnie gives his cock a firm squeeze, nails scraping his length in a way just sly of delicious.
"Self-control, M-mr. Jones," Donnie chides, snapping his hips so that he hits Casey's prostate with pinpoint accuracy, the way he hits everything.
Casey laughs or tries to, but he's sure it sounds more like a yelp. "Fuck-fucking hypocrite."
"It's important to be, hnhh, thorough." Donnie churrs again, and Casey wishes he could bottle that sound.
"Yeah?" Casey reaches up and digs his fingers into Donnie's shoulders, relishing how the muscles there flex and roll under his hands. "Why don't you check out my oral muscles while you're at it?"
And Donnie's kissing him, his scent hitting Casey like a tidal wave. And maybe that's a corny thing to think, but fuck corny, fuck everything that isn't this stupid creaky table and the turtle fucking him on top of it.
He lets himself be swallowed out Donnie's mouth and hands, lets himself be devoured so that he can devour in return. Casey shoves his tongue so far up Donnie's throat he thinks they might both choke, but that's not enough, nothing is ever enough for Casey or his precious, perfect doctor.
"Mr. Jones," Donnie rasps, hips stuttering. "Mr. Jones--Casey!" He screams the name as he comes, and the sound is enough to make Casey follow him, spasming all over Donnie's hand.
They rock against each other through the aftershocks, gasping and whining, before Donnie slumps down all the table besides him. He looks as wrecked and fucked-out as Casey feels. He looks absolutely perfect.
"Well," Casey asks when he's got his brain resembling in some sort of order. "Was I a good patient?"
Donnie rolls his eyes. "You were the worst."
"Come on. Can'tya give me a little candy?" He gives Donnie puppy eyes and of course he caves, scooping up a handful of the still-warm cum puddling on the table--some of it from Casey's cock, the rest seeping from his ass--and lifting a handful towards Casey's mouth. He laps it up eagerly, relishing the taste, and gives Donnie a few more sucks for good measure.
Donnie wipes his hand off on Casey's gown with a sigh. "Aggravating," he says fondly.
"Bitch," Casey shoots back automatically .
"Childish."
Casey laps the last of their combined spunk off his lip, rolling it around his mouth and swallowing it down with a sigh. "Delectable," he moans.
Donnie chuckles, and leaning over to plant a soft kiss on Casey's mouth. "Exquisite," he murmurs.
But there's a bit of concern in his eyes when he pulls back. "I wasn't too rough, was I? Didn't push too many boundaries with the orderly thing?"
"You kidding?" Casey asks. "That was the icing on the cake." He gives Donnie a wink. "And if you think that's rough, wait'll we get to your mechanic fantasy." Donnie lets out a little squeak, and Casey snickers.
Maybe going to the doctor isn't so bad after all, he thinks.