drwhitly | Closed to formersurgeon

Closed to formersurgeon

Martin Whitly had made a deal with the devil, but he was completely content with that. He had to fake his death with the help of a wealthy professional and relocate to a whole new town. It was still a luxurious lifestyle he was brought into but fairly confined. He would still be used for his skills as a surgeon and a killer, but be paid and housed for it.

He had to wait a few weeks after pretending to be dead - he was sure by then that his ex wife had flushed his ashes down a toilet by this point - before seeking Joan out. He was escorted by the people who had managed to get him out of Claremont and located the place that she had shared with this Sherlock fellow.

He could have spent hours looking through the things collected there, but found his way to her room and stayed there. It wouldn’t do him much good to be spotted by her roommate. His appearance was cleaned up despite his age still showing on his face, but his hair was in better shape. He was still unmistakably him even if he wore a disguise the majority of the time he was in public.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah the question they always asked. He had many times acted out the feelings he should have when this question came up. With Jessica he had seen a great opportunity for a lucrative future so he committed to her. Made it work.

“I do,” he confirmed since while he didn’t feel love the same way she did, he felt something. He enjoyed her. He enjoyed their time together and wanted her to stick around. He had put plenty on the line for her because he wanted this relationship to work. He would be pretty angry if he was rejected by her, maybe even slightly hurt if he dared admit it. So throw all of those things into a pot and mix them up and what you’ve got could be described as love. He couldn’t feel it like she did, but he did know the gestures and actions to perform to express it. It was primarily for his own benefit to have her, but if she needed to hear that word from him, he would give it to her.

“I love you, Joan.”

She watched his answer. She knew he, like all psychopaths, was very good at mimicking emotion. It was likely he could totally fake love...likely that he had often faked love in his life. But she knew that he was capable of love...or at least of a feeling that was his version of love. And there was very little she could give him besides herself. She couldn't get him out of jail, she had no money of her own, she might be able to protect him in some way but that was likely an extreme circumstance.

She watched him answer in the affirmative...and she believed him. He loved her, for his own value of love.

"I love you, Martin," she replied softly, and leaned in to kiss him.

Martin expected nothing in return from Joan other than loyalty, which was something that love often provided. He didn't expect her to pay for anything or protect him; she may on her own volition, but he didn't expect it.

Martin smiles as he gazed down at her, bringing her to lie with him on the bed. "Well, I'm glad we've gotten that cleared up." He kissed her again, his hands moving from the sides of her arms to feel her breasts now that they were so close to him. He kissed her as he began to fondle and massage her.

She lay next to him, and as he fondled her breasts she brushed her fingertips over his chest, then along his side, lightly raking her fingernails against the skin.

"My bed is so much more comfortable," she noted with a smile. It was bigger and softer, not to mention they didn't have a chaperone of any kind.

"Oh, you haven'tt a clue." He had slept on that awful cot bunk for 20 years; its no wonder he has a bad back now. "My back actually can not hurt in the mornings now."

He paused with a small smirk before kissing her again, "I mean, depending on what we do every night."

"Was there anything you wanted to do that we couldn't before?" Now that there weren't eyes upon them constantly.

"You mean you were holding back before?" she teased. Really, even though they had been nominally watched, Joan hadn't been shying away from the harder stuff.

He chuckled at her question. "I wasn't. I had become rather accustomed to the audience so what you got then was all me." He kissed her again, his hands sliding south to begin to massage her clit.

"Mmm," she hummed against his lips. "Good. Because I want you."

She drew a breath as his fingers found her clit, and she kissed him harder as she slipped her hand between them to circle his cock and begin a slow stroke, her thumb teasing over the head.

"That's what I want to hear," It was fuel to his ego, but also telling him that he had made the right move seeking her out.

Martin released a heavy exhale when she touched him, having not had that touch in quite some time. He returned the aggressive kiss, only pausing his own hand to encourage hers to stroke faster; he had a taste and now he was hungry for it.

She hummed against his lips as he encouraged her hand and happily complied, tightening her grip slightly and stroking faster.

"Don't climax like this," she murmured breathlessly against his lips. "I need you to come inside me."

Her increased pace made his breath stall and his eyes close briefly. Martin smiled against her lips, "Then we'd better change positions," He pulled back to remove her hand from him and his from her, pushing her onto her back so that he could easily climb on top, entering her slick pussy abruptly.

"Oh-" He gasped at the feeling he had grown to miss desperately as he gaze down at her.

She gasped as well as he entered her, the feeling of him inside her again after all the time she had spent thinking that she'd never even see him again...

She bent her knees and wrapped her legs loosely around his hips, then rested one hand on his shoulder as the other reached up to caress his cheek, her gaze never leaving his.

"God I missed you," she whispered.

He smiled down at her as he drove himself in to the hilt.

“And I you.” He replied, leaning in to kiss her lips briefly before moving to her neck. His hips were slower now, a bit more passionate as his arms wrapped around her and held them close. His breathing was already heavy from the mix of sensations.

“Thought of this every night.”

She cried out softly as he drove into her, and returned that brief kiss with fervor before wrapping her own arms around him, holding him tightly and moving with him, the two of them undulating together, making love to each other, the pleasure intensifying.

"Me too," she whispered back, her own breath likewise heavy. "I couldn't touch myself without thinking of you. Not even when I thought you were dead."

Martin didn’t lose himself in the moment and chuckled at her comment, “That is the impression I had hoped to have left on you.” Unable to think of another man while she was alone, even after his “death.” It was certainly an ultimate impregnation of her.

His hips briefly gave her short shallow thrusts before driving him to the hilt and grinding against her slowly. “I promise I’ll never leave you wanting again, my dear.” He expressed before kissing her again.

It was possible that impression would have faded with time. That there would have come a day that he wasn't on her mind when she pleasured herself. It was also possible that day would have never come, and his face, his voice, his touch, would have haunted her for the rest of her life.

But she didn't have to find out.

Oh, that grinding felt so goddamn good, and Joan moaned low, her breath rate ticking up.as she worked her hips against his.

"What will you do when I want you in the middle of the night?" she asked breathlessly. Not if, but when.

His eyes stayed locked on her, watching every move of her body and feeling for the nonverbal signals she was giving him.

He brought his lips close to her ear to answer her question with his typical knowing smirk, “Roll over.”

He knew they wouldn’t always be sleeping in the same bed but it was a playful answer.

“Just say the word and I’ll be here,” truly his obligations now were minimal so long as he was available to his employer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She laughed softly at the playful answer. It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She was still getting used to the idea that he didn't want this to be a casual sexual arrangement, where they would satisfy each other's itch and then go home until next time. He wanted to sleep with her in the literal sense. Spend the night together. Share their lives with each other, to whatever extent that was possible. The thought of living together crossed her mind, but she knew it wouldn't work, for a number of reasons. Still, she wanted to spend as many nights together as they could.

"Will you stay tonight?" She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it.

Martin couldn't necessarily seek out women now that he was free. It would be a long time, and he would be much older by the time he could freely seek out anyone new. Joan was already secure and he truly quite liked her so there was no need for this to be a casual affair. Martin had already been married, he appreciated the consistency and loyalty. He would much prefer to live with her to make things easier but understood her restrictions. Maybe one day she could move out to her own place for a front and meanwhile live with him so that they could avoid this Sherlock character.

"Of course," He reassured her, holding himself inside of her as he kissed her once more. "I'll be here when you want me; I'm not leaving you."

Joan had told him about her last relationship, and how she hadn't had another for years. She hadn't been looking, keeping all her hook ups casual, because her work was her life, and because getting close to someone only put them in danger and made her vulnerable. But he understood her work, her need to pour herself into it entirely. And if anyone could keep themselves safe from anyone wishing him, or her, harm, it was Martin.

Something occurred to her, and when their lips parted she stroked his cheek. "We should get on with the sex," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "But afterwards, remind me to tell you about Moriarty."

Sherlock aside, she represented the biggest threat to him and their relationship.

Martin chuckled when she encouraged him to continue, nodding in response. Pulling out, he grabbed her by the hips to turn her over, entering from behind. It wasn't as sensual as it had been a moment ago, but it was getting right to it as his hips we able to move with a more rapid pace against her ass. Massaging her hips, he looked down at the slender curves of her body.

"I especially missed this," he exhaled through his heavy breathing that was picking up again.

Joan didn't struggle as he flipped her over, instead moving as his hands directed. She groaned loudly into her pillow as he began fucking her from behind, and slid a hand between her legs to rub her clutch, her fingers swift as she moaned needfully.

"Me too," she gasped. "Please, Martin, harder."

She didn't have to ask twice, but that didn't mean that he didn't enjoy her begging. He rammed into her with long hard strokes, feeling her wrap around him and getting slicker. With his hands, he spread her asscheeks, a thumb rubbing her tighter hole teasingly as he watched himself enter her with each roll of his hips, slapping harder just as she asked.

"Nnngh," she moaned as he fucked her harder and teased her ass, rubbing her clit faster, driven nearly out of her mind, her entire body burning with pleasure and trembling on the edge of climax.

"Yes...nnngh...Martin..."

Wanting to get her almost there, he felt for her pussy's movements despite his own rapid ones. His thumb pressed in only to the knuckle to aid her pushing over the edge, his climax not far behind, but able to hold off for that perfect timing.

"That's it-" he breathed heavy again, urging her forward as he waited for her body's command.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject