WHAAATTTT!

The steam from her cup mingled with the faint scent of hospital coffee, bitter and grounding, but my mind drifted to the sweet, milky tsokolate from home, the way my family's kitchen always smelled of it on rainy mornings.

'Tell me about the Philippines,' she said, her voice gentle, eyes flicking up to mine before dropping back to my lap. 'What do you miss most? Family? The food?'

Her foot nudged mine under the table, a casual touch that sent a spark up my leg. I uncrossed my thighs, the movement making my cock shift visibly, the head pressing a distinct imprint against the scrubs.

She watched it all, her full lips parting slightly, that curvy figure of hers leaning in closer, her scrubs hugging the swell of her breasts and hips.

I swallowed, my voice trembling as I started. 'My family... they're everything. My lola—grandma—she'd make adobo every Sunday, the vinegar tang filling the house, everyone laughing around the table. And the streets in Manila, so alive with jeepneys honking, the humid air sticking to your skin.'

As I spoke, homesickness welled up, my throat tightening, tears pricking my eyes. But then her hand moved—slow, deliberate—across the table, her fingers brushing the edge of my thigh before grazing the fabric over my bulge.