8.2 Entanglement

Your remaining week at the hospital is spent in uncomfortable contention. The nursing staff seem wholly at unease around you, making their daily visits short and rushed. Perhaps it's a blessing that you've just learned word of your early release. Given the accelerated healing that's occurred over the last few weeks, it's been determined your stay is no longer necessary. Despite your efforts to avoid Doctor Underwood as of late, you're **** to see him a final time during your discharge. The air seems to crackle with static as he steps into the room. Chewing your lip, you quickly look away from the man's biting gaze. He was the only witness to your act of depravity. An act you wish you could forget about all together.

Your quickness to take the patient's life has left a rather sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Made no better by the fact you've been confined to the very room in which the deed happened. Thankfully, your other reminder of the night, Doctor Underwood, remains brief and to the point. You're to take the medication you're being sent home with daily. Along with the use of a new set of crutches.

"I think I can manage on my own." You frown, waving your hand dismissively at the crutches.

"That is my concern." The Doctor replies in a low voice. "You're healing exceedingly fast."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Your frown deepens at the serious tone in the man's voice.

"Not when it's a medical marvel." He sighs, his tone growing slightly annoyed. "And I'm running out of excuses to explain it away."

"Very well." You nod in affirmation, gesturing towards the items.

It's somehow more difficult using the crutches when not needed than when needed. Slipping your arms around them obligingly, you take a few uncoordinated steps forward. The Doctor casts you a rather wary look before exiting. The rest of the staff quickly busy themselves, making no effort to aid you as you leave. The taxi drive back home provides a small moment of quiet solace. Yet, upon arrival at your apartment a wave of new thoughts and emotions spring forth. Suddenly unable to deal with them, you quickly provide the driver with new directions. It's still relatively early in the evening, leaving your destination almost barren. The dive you find yourself in isn't the type you'd normally socialize. However, given the relative size of the town you hope it will ensure you don't run into any recognized company.

The grizzly barkeep hardly bats an eye at your battered appearance. More than happy to exchange your dollars for a cold beer. The rich flavor easily washes down your throat, making it one of the few things you've found that isn't a pain to consume now. Sipping the beverage in silence, you allow the hours to pass by. The occasional refill keeps the bartender from giving you any issues. After a few drinks, on an empty stomach no less, you find yourself feeling completely un-****. Perhaps due to your slow consumption. Nevertheless, you've yet to achieve your required level of distraction. Motioning to the old man, you request something stronger.

"You sure?" His fuzzy brow furrows as you can tell he's trying to remember how many drinks you've had so far.

"Yes," You reply clearly, pushing the empty pint glass away. "I'm fine."

"I reckon you are." The man's thick southern drawl seems to linger in your mind.

You think you catch him casting a suspicious look before turning around. Attributing this to your tired mind, you absentmindedly reach for a pack of cigarettes. It's not a habit you're proud of or one you often partake in. However, tonight seems to be the perfect night to indulge, especially given your long hiatus. You hear a bell jingle, indicating the entrance or exit of a patron, as it has done periodically throughout the night. You can't help wincing this time as the ring is particularly sharper than usual. Ignoring this as well, you gratefully take the drink that's been placed before you. The motion of someone taking a seat nearby catches your peripherals. However, you're too distracted by the next drag of your cigarette to take full notice.

"{your_name}."

You startle visibly, quickly turning to the source.

"Doctor Underwood." You **** out, smoke escaping the sides of your lips as you speak.

"You shouldn't be drinking in your condition."

"Why, because of the meds?" You question, seeing little reason else not to partake.

"Right." The Doctor quickly agrees, reaching over for your cup. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I could ask you the same." You retort, reflexively placing the palm of your hand on the rim of the glass.

As you pull the item back towards you, your eyes subtly drift over to the man's form, His unexpectedly casual dress has not gone unnoticed. For the Doctor hardly seems like the type to wear work boots and a band tee shirt after work. He especially doesn't seem like the type to order a cheap beer at what is essentially a pit stop for truckers and oil rig workers.

"It doesn't seem like yours either." He counters, watching as you brazenly take another sip of your drink.

"You don't know anything about me." You respond quickly, the sound of your glass meeting the bar ringing uncomfortably loud in your ears.

"I do know about you, {your_name}." The Doctor's voice has grown oddly confident mixed with a hint of knowing. "Perhaps even more than you do."

You can't help laughing in response before downing the rest of your drink. The Doctor watches wordlessly as you order another. Picking up your nearly burnt out cigarette from the ashtray, you bring it to your mouth. The Doctor's gaze remains transfixed as more smoke billows from your lips a moment later.

"So, you think a few x-rays and exams," You state brusquely as you aggressively extinguish the cigarette butt. "Tell you more about me than even I know?"

"Something like that." He smiles coyly, gesturing towards the pack of Marlboros.

Raising a brow curiously, you slide the pack over. There's a moment of silence as it's now your turn to watch the Doctor. His sharp jaw flexes as he places the item between his lips. Stray locks of his now tousled hair fall before his eyes as he leans down to light the cigarette. Dark shadows are temporarily cast across his angular face before the match's flame is extinguished and he sits back up. Quickly looking away, you turn your attention back to the drink before you. All of a sudden you're feeling uncomfortably feverish. Your fingers wrap around the cold glass, feeling condensation running down your flushed skin. Exhaling sharply, you quickly bring the glass back to your lips. The contents are cool and refreshing as they run down your increasingly warm throat.

"You never answered my question." Doctor Underwood remarks after letting out another exhale of smoke.

Raising a brow, you turn to face the man. Your breath suddenly feels heavy again when your gaze meets the man's. It's as if all the **** hits you at once. You open your mouth to reply but are met with an instant wave of dizziness.

"I told you, you shouldn't be drinking." The Doctor sighs in exasperation.

He quickly downs the rest of his drink and throws some money on the bar top before turning to you.

"I'm fine." You insist, despite the unexpected fatigue that has suddenly hit you.

"I will be the judge of that." Doctor Underwood asserts before slipping an arm behind your back. "After I get you home."

Your eyes widen in surprise, yet you're unable to protest as he quickly guides you to the exit. Despite your ailment, you're still acutely aware that the Doctor has led you to a car that distinctively cannot be his. Unless there is some sentimental attachment, you can't see a Doctor driving an old, beater truck. Keeping this to yourself, you remain silent. During the ride back, you begin feeling marginally better. Better enough to become thoroughly annoyed when the Doctor insists on escorting you inside.

"I'm fine, really." You insist again once you're inside. "I didn't take any medication today anyway. So you don't have to worry about any reactions."

"You didn't?"

"No." You find yourself admitting. "I haven't since... I haven't in a while."

"Fascinating." The Doctor muses, staring at you thoughtfully.

"Is that all you have to say?" You can't help demanding, more of your annoyance returning.

"What do you desire for me to say?" Doctor Underwood questions, appearing to be slightly amused.

"Something that's not vague or riddled with disdain." You mutter under your breath.

Some of the pain and heat has returned along with the annoyance. Though less intrusive this time, it's somehow less ignorable. Squaring your shoulders, you throw the man an expectant look.

"And what about my desires?" He retorts nonchalantly.

"W-what?" You stammer, your brow knitting in confusion.

"What about my desires?" The man repeats, taking a step towards you.

"I-" Your voice falters as you find yourself frozen in place. "Your desires?"

"That's right." Doctor Underwood exhales, after stopping before you.

Your eyes widen as you're left without an answer, the heat within becoming too large of a distraction. Wordlessly, the man reaches forward and runs a hand down along your throat. A trail of goosebumps are left in his finger's place. Your breath grows heavy again as you stare into the man's deep eyes. Suddenly unable to take it all, you quickly spring forward. You're not sure who's more surprised by your actions, you or the Doctor. Nevertheless, you're far too invested to adhere. Your flushed skin brushes against his cold skin as your lips press against his. To your surprise and relief, it's not long before his arms have wrapped around you, pulling you in closer. Blushing from a mix of heat and appall, you find yourself melting into the man's touch. His hands are quickly all over you, pulling at the buttons and zippers of your clothes. Though all logic tells you to end this, your body drives you forward. With your aid your clothes, as well as his, are quickly removed.

Near instant relief is felt as the man's cool hands begin traveling across your hot skin. All thoughts but one have swiftly evaded your mind since the moment you touched the man. Moaning, you place your hands against the his muscular chest. You're well aware that he's the one allowing you to easily push him back. You hardly care as your hands continue to make exploration of their own. Eventually, they find what they've been desperately searching for. The Doctor groans lightly as your hands make contact with the one warm part of his body. Ignoring all reason and sense, you continue your actions. Taut skin and large veins press against the palm of your hand as you begin running it along the man's length. He pauses for a moment, seeming to enjoy the attention. However, it's not long before his hands have found purchase of their own. A sharp gasp quickly leaves your throat when his fingers brush against your aching clit. The sensation is more than you could have anticipated.

The Doctor buries his face into the side of your neck as his fingers continue moving about your sensitive area. He takes a deep inhale before warm breath rushes out against your already flushed skin. His actions progress until your loud cries of pleasure reach his ears. Once satisfied, the man's attention quickly shifts. You've no time to react before you're swiftly **** back. Your back connects with the wall behind you as the Doctors frame presses against your torso. His hands run down the sides of your body, forcing your legs apart. There's hardly any need for it given your willingness. Exhaling deeply, you wait in longed anticipation. A moment later you're granted relief. Moaning again, you feel instant gratification and release as the man envelopes you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him in closer. This action seems to be the only encouragement the man needs as his frame presses against you further.

Liquid begins trickling down your inner thigh as your excitement grows. With each of the man's powerful thrusts, the pain seems to momentarily subside. Whimpering in frustration, you pull the man closer, needing further release. Picking up on your obvious desires, the man graciously increases his pace. Exhaling in content, you're met with the needed orgasm a moment later. Seeming as roused as you, the Doctor swiftly loops an arm beneath your leg. In an instant, you're lifted off your feet, still pinned between the wall and the Doctor. A few hours ago this would have been the last place you'd hope to find yourself. However, now it's hardly enough. Arching into the man, you remain intoxicated on your one ambition: release.

Still pressed against the wall you revel in the feelings of the man's passion. Eyes rolling back, you know you're near another climax. Groaning, the rush increases as the man's lips meet your neck again. You feel the edges of his sharp canines brush against your delicate skin. This seems to be more than enough to send you over your edge. Gasping, you arch into the man once more as a wave of pleasure spreads through you. Seconds later, the man hastily pulls you away and you sink to the floor before your bosom and torso are covered by viscous substance. Panting heavily, your mind can barely register your actions. The Doctor offers you another coy smile before moving to redress.