Page 38 of Two For the Show
Then I think about how hollow Quinton’s eyes look, and that I can’t help him get better if I’m still sick, and I’m willing to do whatever I need to get better.
No matter how strange or unorthodox.
This is not how I envisioned using my medical degree.
There’s no point in wearing gloves during the application. I need as much of it to soak into my skin as possible, so I won’t pretend like a barrier is going to do anything.
I scoop the fluid out of the jar with two fingers, wrinkling my nose at how unnaturally cold it is. The sweet and slightly fruity taffy scent of Jude emanates from it, and that is the only thing that relaxes me and makes me feel comfortable enough to do what needs to be done.
He is my Alpha. No more denying, no more hiding from it. I don’t need to feel guilty or weird for doing this.
It’s not weird at all. Nope.
This is natural. Or. Well. Natural-ish.
I spread my thighs and slip my fingers down my slit, gasping at the way the cum immediately warms up in contact with my flesh. I can’t stop a soft sound from escaping as I circle my finger around my entrance.
The goal was to get in and get out, so to speak. I will apply the pheromones to the most receptive area and then go about my day.
But when my fingers slide inside me, aided by Jude’s release, my back arches off the bed. It feels so fucking good. Better than my hand has ever felt before.
If I close my eyes, I can pretend my fingers are his, even if it takes two of mine to equal one of his. A few strokes to push it deep inside me was all I was supposed to do, but I need more than that now.
One hand rucks up my shirt to my chin and then peels down the cup of my bra so I can pinch and twist at my nipple. As I stroke that sweet spot inside me, it makes me long for a knot. I let my mind wander to what it would be like to be with the big Alpha.
Is he dominant? Would he grab my chin and demand I keep my eyes on him?
I slip my fingers out and use them to circle my clit as I picture what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of his tongue. Does he flatten it and do long, slow licks? Would he shape it into a point and thrust it inside me? What if he nipped and kissed my clit while fucking me with three of his massive fingers?
Would I be able to hold back my orgasm? Would he force me to, making me beg to come? Or would he try towrench as many orgasms as possible out of me, not stopping until I’m a sobbing, soaking mess?
I prop my feet up on the bed and spread my knees wide so I can slip my hand around my thigh to change the angle my fingers thrust in. I abandon my nipple and use my other hand to rub my clit in a tight circle. It’s barely seconds before my legs are quaking, my hips are pushing up to insist on more pressure, and I can no longer hold back the moans that roll in my chest.
A burst of energy that feels like an electrical charge explodes within me, catching me by surprise and leaving me panting and sweaty on my bed.
I’ve heard men talk about post-nut clarity before. That in the time immediately after orgasm, everything comes down to earth, and you begin to think clearly again.
As I stare at the half-full bottle of seminal fluid on my bedside table and grab it, scooping the rest up and rubbing it across my scent gland on my throat, I thought my clarity would be that this was a stupid fucking idea.
And it is.
Because now that I know what the two of us smell like together, I want the real thing so fucking bad.
Trevor’s nostrilsflare a little as I bend down to take a look at the cut on his forehead, but I pretend like I don’t notice. There is no way he doesn’t smell the fact that I’m slathered in Jude’s cum. But washing it off defeats the whole purpose of the treatment.
It doesn’t change the fact that smelling of him is probably massively unprofessional.
I was not expecting to get called out for an emergency, that’s for certain. Maybe I should’ve waited to do the treatment right after a show, while everyone was sleeping.
That probably would’ve been a better idea than walking around the circus smelling like the showrunners cum.
“I don’t think you’re going to need stitches. I want to clean it, and then I think some surgical glue should be enough to keep it together, unless you plan on headbanging any time soon.”
Trevor snorts and shakes his head. “Nah, Doc, that’s not my thing. Go for it.” I take my gloves off, wash my hands, and reglove before cleaning up the wound and squeezing it together gently. “Okay, some people say it burns a little, but you’re tough, so I doubt you’ll even feel it.”
I have to hold his dark hair back from his forehead for the application, but after it is done and the glue is dry, he sits back with a smile on his face. “You know, I’m real happy to have ya back, Doc. We are all. When we found out what the guys- ”
I cut him off. “Oh, we don’t need to talk about that. I’m just glad it’s over.”
