This outtake was written as a mashup birthday fantasy for Amber1983. What happens when Dr. Maggie Doyle from Amber's fic The Search and LRR's Nate Banner come together for a joint session? Shrinkage- it's not always a bad thing! With a nod to Kitkat's Fatty, who also sees the good Dr. B on occasion!
SHRINKage: The doctor is IN!
"Copley Plaza, please," Nate instructed the cabbie, holding his breath as the overpowering sweet scent of the pine "air freshener" assaulted his nostrils.
"That shrink convention?" the driver asked. "One about sex?"
"Yes, that's the one," Nate answered patiently, though he was in a terrific hurry.
"Storrow Drive's backed up," the driver grumbled. "Okay if I take the Pike in?"
Nate shrugged. "I've never been to Boston before, so you're on your own, guy."
The two men's eyes met briefly in the rear-view mirror, each sizing up the other for the split second before the driver engaged the meter and pulled away from the curb. The cabbie did his best to look trustworthy and Nate, for his part, attempted to not look like a sucker who'd pay for an unwelcome tour of the Big Dig.
Unlike most of the therapists who'd be attending the conference, Nate was not backed by some fancy newfangled "Sexual Rejuvenation" retreat in Malibu. No, he had a small but thriving practice in Seattle but knew it was time to branch out. Couples therapy was the future, he was more convinced than ever. And he knew it would be irresponsible to venture in that direction without becoming fluent in the latest and greatest techniques in psychosexual therapy.
He pulled out his registration confirmation yet again, anxiously checking his watch against the schedule. Dr. Margaret Doyle, the leading expert in the field, would be speaking in thirty-five minutes. It was Dr. Doyle he'd specifically come to hear, and if he allowed himself to be completely honest, to see, as well.
You're a fool, Nate, he told himself once more. She's brilliant and gorgeous and insightful and warm, and she's…well, an expert in sexual satisfaction. A catch with a capital "C". And yet, all the Googling he'd done had come up devoid of any romantic attachment for the good doctor.
But why on earth would a woman like that go for a schlub like me? He had to chuckle to himself, gazing out the windows into the artificial amber harshness of the tunnel lights. What would Edward have to say about your self-doubt?
If only all my patients were Edward Cullen, he mused, laughing out loud this time at the freaky coincidence that he did, indeed, have two different patients by that same unlikely name. Not to mention their girlfriends were both named Bella!
Nate cleared his head of the former Hulk and the former Fatty and set his thoughts on Dr. Margaret Doyle.
"It is my great honor to introduce Great Britain's leading Sexologist, Dr. Margaret Doyle."
The auditorium burst into applause just as Nate slunk into the last available seat in the very last row, so far away that the podium was in another ZIP code and the keynote speaker was reduced to a distant silhouette. If not for the huge screen broadcasting her image to the poor bastards at the back of the room, Banner would've missed out on her expressive face entirely. And that would've been a damn shame.
"Thank you, Dr. Needleman. It is such an honor to be here with all of you. But please, call me Maggie."
Nate was mindful of a train roaring through his insides, and he labeled the emotion: WANT. There was absolutely nothing ordinary about this woman; not her translucent blue eyes the color of the ocean, not her chestnut hair or the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, not her enticing, scarlet bowed lips, not her easy smile, and most definitely not the way her faint Irish brogue lifted his heart right out of his chair.
Entranced by the comforting tone of her voice, he listened raptly to her nonjudgmental, matter-of-fact way of laying out the issues, whether she was describing erectile dysfunction or primary vaginismus. When it came to the part of the lecture where she presented her treatment, Nate was held captive by her unique blend of confidence and compassion.
"…And then we bring in the partner and set them to work on a series of increasingly intimate exercises together."
Nate pulled the bottle of tepid leftover airplane water from his bag and attempted to swallow over the large lump that formed in his throat as Maggie described the first exercise.
"I require the couple to refrain from all sexual touching for seven days."
Astonished murmuring erupted in the audience followed by embarrassed laughter.
Maggie's eyes crinkled as she giggled into the microphone, sounding to Nate's ears like a melodious bell choir. "Yeah, I get that a lot," she responded good-naturedly, sipping at her own glass of water before stowing it back under the podium shelf.
"I'm not completely sadistic, they're allowed to kiss and cuddle, but no manual or oral sex. You might be surprised at the healing power of simple, innocent touches."
From the skeptical-sounding audience response, it seemed Maggie surmised correctly—they would be surprised.
Maggie discarded her notes for a moment and turned her gaze to the far reaches of the room. "How many of you have ever been on a diet?"
Ninety percent of the audience raised their hands, including Nate.
"Tell me, didn't everything taste better, when you knew you were severely restricted?" Nate detected a semi-wicked gleam in her eye. Nervous titters scattered about the room as the audience naturally made the leap.
"I promise you," she continued, holding out one hand for emphasis, "even the simple act of holding hands…" her face took on a dreamy expression and Nate couldn't help but imagine the two of them hand in hand, together on some remote beach, surf skimming over their suntanned bare feet as they sank into the wet sand, "becomes sexually charged."
Unf! And there it was.
Maggie's giant projected gaze fastened onto the rear of the room, into Nate's very soul, and he felt a rush of heat so intense it brought sweat to his brow. Certain she had locked onto his two eyes, of the five thousand in the room, he dared not look away.
The coffee break could not arrive quickly enough for poor Dr. Banner. Dr. Doyle's psycho-sexual treatment plan now firmly implanted in his psyche, he could not escape the imagery assaulting him.
"Masturbate together but try not to touch each other," she'd detailed the second step, inspiring wild visions of Dr. Doyle—of Maggie—sprawled along his rickety old couch (for fuck's sake, maybe he would accept Cullen's offer of a new sofa, after all) her legs splayed open, skirt lifted high over her hips, while Nate stood by her feet and watched. Even in his fantasy, he gawped helplessly as her fingers strolled along her wet slit and her pleasure mounted and finally erupted, her pumps slamming into the well-worn arm of his battered couch.
"Ask the couple to share their feelings. They need to learn that sexual organs are beautiful and nothing to fear or shy away from." Nate went wild on that one, standing before Dr. Doyle in his mind's eye, cock in hand, as she smiled and licked her lips and told him how beautiful he was, that his cock was an impressive specimen, that she couldn't wait to take him into her mouth. He may have moaned out loud, realizing his gaffe when his next-door neighbor gave him a very dirty look.
"Then we progress to mutual pleasuring—oral and manual, but not genital."
"Fuck me!" Banner muttered under his breath, or so he thought.
"Sorry, man, my bad," Banner said, smoothing it over before he got expelled from the room. Was it his fault Maggie had drawn a most vivid picture of a sixty-nine? Not just any run-of-the-mill sixty-nine, but the artistic athletic version, where the good doctor was suspended upside-down by her ankles, lavishing attention on Nate's manhood while he feasted between her legs. No, definitely not his fault at all.
Is the A/C broken in here? Nate wondered, not for the first time, drawing an index finger inside his collar and trying to allow for some airflow beneath his necktie. He only wore the damn things on rare occasions, and now he remembered exactly why.
"And then, of course, we have genital-to-genital contact," she stated, as coolly as if she were reading off a grocery list. Eggs, milk, glans-rubbing-against-clitoris, ramen… Nate found it impossible to remain in his seat, as his pants grew uncomfortably tight and his throat constricted. Before Dr. Doyle even reached penetration, Nate was on his feet, tossing his leather briefcase onto his chair—with a passing sardonic smile at himself for taking pains to save the absolute worst seat in the house—and making a bee-line for the refreshments in the next room.
As he downed his third eight-ounce bottle of Poland Springs, Nate finally began to feel breath entering his lungs again, finally began to sense the hot beads of sweat cooling from his forehead and beneath his armpits. That's not to say his raging hard-on had gone anywhere, and it was this somewhat altered state in which he found himself when Dr. Margaret Doyle asked him for a cold drink.
"Huh? Oh yes, of course, here, let me…what did you say you wanted?" He tripped over his words like a newly birthed foal trying to find its legs.
Maggie's giggle trickled across the table and found him, her warm voice wrapping itself around Banner and soothing his embarrassment. "I hadn't said. I'd only gotten as far as cold and wet," she explained.
"Oh," he answered, somewhat relieved, though still feeling the blush heat his face. "Well if I may make a recommendation, this water is quite good," he said charmingly, offering her a bottle.
"Thank you, that would be lovely," she answered, smiling broadly and holding out her hand.
"Nathan Banner, Ph.D," he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it enthusiastically.
Her face formed a surprised smile, but she recovered just as quickly. "I guess you know who I am."
She looked at the water bottle expectantly, the one she'd been reaching for when he shook her hand instead.
"Oh shit, I'm such a total clod today. Here, let me open this for you, they're kind of tight." Nate blushed anew at the innuendo, and again, Maggie's warm giggles eased his humiliation.
"Thank you," she said, watching him twist the cap off and fling it into the barrel. "Impressive," she added.
"What? Oh that? Yeah, I played some basketball in college. Anyway, wow, that was an enlightening presentation."
Her face lit up. "Was it now? Are you currently a practitioner of Sexology?"
"No," he answered too quickly. "I mean, I've gravitated toward couples therapy, and this seemed to be the piece I've been missing."
He could hardly be expected to concentrate on the conversation once she placed the open bottle between her lips and tipped back the bottle along with her head and began to guzzle the cool water. Her eyes closed in what he'd almost describe as ecstasy, but really, it was only water. She finished with a loud, "Ahhhh!" and handed Nate the empty with a sly smile.
Accepting her challenge, he tossed the bottle over his shoulder without looking, and smirked when he heard it drop into the barrel.
"You must be very popular at parties," she said, grinning.
"Oh that's barely the tip of the iceberg," he answered, a giddy happiness surging through him as they flirted shamelessly with each other.
Maggie held her stomach and doubled over in laughter, as Nate realized belatedly what he'd said. "I'm just gonna shut up now," he said derisively, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.
"Please don't," she said warmly, causing him to look up and meet her eyes. "It's been a while since I've been able to talk with a real person this way."
Nate squinted in disbelief. "Really? I find that impossible to believe."
She huffed and answered, "Some men find me intimidating."
Yes, Nate realized, because you know everything about sexual satisfaction.
Needleman appeared next to Dr. Doyle and hooked his hand inside her elbow, murmuring that they needed her back on the dais. "Very nice to meet you, Dr. Nathan Banner."
"Nate. And you, Dr. Doyle."
She nodded and smiled at him. "Maggie."
"Here's where the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy comes into play," Maggie explained. "CBT has been proven to help patients deal with anxiety and learn to react in a more measured and logical way to stressful situations. There is often a great deal of shame and/or guilt where sexual dysfunction occurs, and we have to cast our blanket of treatment over the underlying feelings."
Nate sat riveted to her face on the screen at first, his body humming with the fresh excitement of having met the famous and dazzling Dr. Doyle in person and, if he did say so himself, having impressed her with his coolness. But now, he was feeling a bit itchy, because CBT was so last year where he came from.
It both excited and terrified Nate that he had something to teach this expert. He practically levitated out of his chair as she explained her methodology for instilling feelings of control and self-empowerment. He reflected on his recent success with Edward Cullen the First, as he'd come to label him, how in such a short time, Edward was able to train himself to reroute his feelings of jealousy and inadequacy and trust himself not to let temporary rage get the better of him.
Nate had observed countless times how the creators of DBT had married Far Eastern philosophy with the general principles of CBT and vastly improved the results, and he was eager as a newborn pup to enlighten Dr. Doyle. But how to do it tactfully? That was the all-important issue.
He'd felt the heat between them, felt her flirting, and he had every reason to believe that they'd find each other again when this thing ended today. He'd invite her to dinner, they'd share a bottle of wine, go back to his room—or hers. Come to think of it, hers would probably be a whole lot nicer. Not that Nate had any hang-ups about being with successful women. He'd overcome the sex thing, he didn't have an ego issue. So if she wanted to teach him a thing or two in bed—or wherever they ended up—more power to her.
But he wasn't quite sure if her ego could handle a little professional challenge. So he squirmed, crossing and uncrossing his legs, until his neighbor let out a loud long-suffering sigh. Nate side-eyed the man, and sure enough, he was once again giving Nate the hairiest eyeball he could muster. Banner slid down into his chair and employed his favorite self-soothing technique. Several deep breaths later, he was calm again and able to withstand the lecture. But once the Q & A began, Nate bolted out of his seat and onto his feet, his hand shooting toward the ceiling of the auditorium like a bullet from a starter's pistol.
Needleman was moderating, and naturally, he called on his cronies first, and others toward the front of the room until the crowd of raised hands died back. And just when he'd announced they'd taken the last question, Dr. Doyle leaned over and gestured to the rear of the room.
"Yes, way in the back. You have a question for the doctor?"
"I do," Nate said, struggling to project his voice without benefit of microphone across a sea of restless conference-goers, a group of people who were interested enough in the subject until it impinged on their plans for cocktail hour. The leader of the fussing was his neighbor, who took the opportunity to loudly unzip his briefcase and shuffle his papers inside while Nate attempted to speak.
"Please," said Maggie, encouragingly, an expectant smile gracing her face.
Shit, thought Banner. Do I really want to take this risk?
"Jesus, man," said his neighbor disgustedly. "Get on with it already, will ya?"
Mindful of his irritation but letting it pass, Banner began tentatively. "Your CBT work…"
"Yes?" Maggie encouraged, sensing his struggle.
"Have you considered DBT in its place?"
Her smile fell, he could see it larger than life on the screen, and so could everyone else in the auditorium. A renewed hush blanketed the room and Nate's heart beat hard against his chest.
Fuck! She was totally blindsided. YOU IDIOT! What have you done?
"I'm sure you're familiar with Dialectical Behavior Therapy? It's become a very popular method for treating all manner of Personality Disorders, and I was just wondering if you might find it useful to couple DBT with your psycho-sexual treatment in place of CBT."
Maggie was doing her very best impersonation of a deer caught in the headlights, and Nate felt his palms grow clammy and his mouth go dry. And that's when the miracle occurred.
Dr. Margaret Doyle relaxed into a tranquil smile and answered, "Perhaps we could discuss that over dinner, Dr. Banner?"
"Holy shit," exclaimed Nate's neighbor, stunned into reverence. "You lucky, ballsy bastard!"
Meanwhile, Nate sensed the wave of heads flipping in his direction, all eyes on him. Nate felt his cheeks crease with the effort of stretching to accommodate his broad smile. He stared at the tiny figure at the front of the room, avoiding the temptation to look away into the screen, even though he couldn't see her nearly as well this way. The two stood stock still, locked together across rows and rows of voyeurs, but they might just as well have been the only two there.
"I believe the lady is waiting for an answer," Dr. Needleman's voice boomed out over the address system, inciting ripples of laughter and a whack on the leg from Nate's neighbor.
"Ow!" he growled, scowling at his neighbor, causing a fresh round of chuckles.
"Was that a 'yes' then?" Needleman inquired.
Nate recovered himself and answered, "Of course," the wide grin returning to his face.
It was only then that he allowed himself to look at her larger-than-life projection, just in time to see a slight nod of her head and a knowing smile.
Nate barely acknowledged the people sliding out his row past him and heading for the exit. He barely moved an inch, in fact, holding his ground while Maggie gathered her papers and said her goodbyes to the organizers of the conference. He felt ten feet tall as she made her way back to the rear of the auditorium, holding his eyes in her tractor beam the entire way, not that he had the slightest inclination to look anywhere else.
Dr. Banner had always considered himself a romantic, his work with countless couples over the years confirming that belief, albeit tinged with the reality that even two people who seem to be perfectly suited for each other occasionally have their issues. He didn't fear the challenge, but rather saw each bump in the road as an opportunity to work together, deepen understandings, and move forward with a more solid base.
Even still, he had to admit to feeling amazed at the intensity of what honestly seemed to be love at first sight. Sure, he'd watched the few YouTube videos of Dr. Doyle as "homework", and his little infatuation with "Dr. Love" had probably started long before they met in the break room, but what he was feeling now was more powerful than any other force that had ever invaded his system. He was one hundred percent engaged and mindful of first-date jitters, racing pulse, sweaty palms, and a smile stuck to his face like someone crazy-glued it there.
"Know where we can get a decent lobster in this town?" she asked him.
"Not really," he chuckled, "but I know how to find out. Come on."
They walked side by side without speaking, and were met on the other side of the revolving door by a large man in a red suit with brass fittings. "We need a great lobster tonight," Banner confided, slipping the man a rolled up five.
With three stutter blows on his whistle, the doorman wrangled a taxi and leaned into the open passenger window. "Legal's Seaport."
"Thanks, man," Banner said, receiving a wink and an, "Enjoy!" in return.
"So…DBT?" Maggie raised a challenging brow and Nate's stomach sank again.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell I was thinking putting you on the spot in front of everyone."
Maggie reached down for Nate's hand. He gasped when she picked it up and interlocked her fingers with his. "Told ya," she grinned knowingly.
Nate glanced at their joined hands. "Does this mean you forgive me?"
Maggie chuckled warmly. "Nothing to forgive. I appreciate your passion for the topic, and I want to hear more about your therapy."
Nate shook his head, as if trying to wake himself from a dream. "Well, Dialectical—"
Maggie leaned across the seat and closed her lips over his, quieting his words. Surprised, Nate kissed her back enthusiastically and groaned when she pressed her tongue into his mouth. Maggie pulled back slightly from the kiss, sliding her tongue across her lower lip as if savoring every drop. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "I couldn't wait."
Nate laughed. "Why on earth would I mind?"
"I got the sense you were trying to tell me something."
"The hell with that," Nate said, reaching behind her neck with his free hand and kissing her again. This time, he was the one to pull away, sensing the cabbie's eyes on them in the mirror.
Nate let go and pressed his back to the seat, lifting his eyes to the ceiling and smiling like a loon. He heard Maggie sigh contentedly next to him and brushed his thumb over their joined hands. Sensing her head turn against the seat back, he turned to face her.
"Despite evidence to the contrary, I'm not actually like this," she said.
"Like what?" Nate asked, his voice sounding floaty and foreign.
"Like a love-starved horny teenager!" she giggled. "Jesus, listen to me, will ya? I'm giggling like a Middle-Schooler with her first crush!"
Nate's face nearly broke with his smile. "You have a crush on me?"
"I think I do!" She rolled her eyes at herself and let her head shake back and forth in disbelief. "I don't know what's gotten into me."
Nate squeezed her hand and she settled her eyes back on his. "I think I know," he said, a serious tone suddenly encroaching. "I think it's happening to me, too."
She stared at him for a solid thirty seconds, neither of them moving anything but their joined fingers, which spoke for their entire bodies, rubbing gently, seeking connection. Finally, Maggie spoke, "I really want to kiss you again."
Nate couldn't help that his eyes clicked to the rear-view mirror, but this time, he couldn't bring himself to care that they were being watched. He met Maggie in the middle, and soon they were wrapped around each other like ribbons on a Maypole, lips locked and tongues dancing from one mouth to the other, chests pushed together and hands roaming through hair, along backs, skimming down sides. Deep breaths sucked in and swallowed and so much kissing, tasting, sampling.
"Legal's Hah-buh-side, love-buhhds," interrupted the cabbie, pulling up to the restaurant.
He reached for his wallet. "No no, I invited you," Maggie insisted, pulling her wallet from her purse.
"Don't be silly. I'd already fantasized about taking you to dinner, and…shit, did I just say that out loud?"
Maggie burst into giggles and swatted my hand away from my pants. "Fantasies don't count unless you tell someone," she said, handing the cabbie the money but directing her comment to Nate pointedly.
Nate felt the tingle of possibility surge through him anew. "Fine," he responded, sliding out of the seat behind her. "I have this fantasy that I'll buy you dinner," he said, wrapping his arm around her and leading her to the door.
"Too late, dinner's already a done deal."
He pulled on the large brass fish handle to open the door for her. As she passed through, he teased, "Are we having our first fight?"
"I have to admit, I'm pretty secure in my manhood, but I don't know what self-respecting man could wear a bib and not feel emasculated. I mean, it's like going to get your hair cut. You know how they make you wear those ridiculous capes? What are they thinking?"
Maggie snorted at Nate's rant and reached to cover his hand when he threatened to rip off the bib. "I think you look adorable."
He paused and took in her earnest expression, but yanked off the plastic just the same. "I'm not really going for adorable here, but thanks."
Maggie laughed. "Men."
"Whatever. The sexual revolution wasn't very kind to my gender, you know. I mean, look. Women can be macho or feminine and win either way. It's not fair."
"That's one way of looking at it," she answered. "What about the whole, 'It's okay to cry' movement?"
"Bah. I tell my patients that, but I don't really buy it."
Maggie looked horrified, searching his face. "You don't mean that?"
Banner shook his head and grinned. "Of course I don't."
"Oh thank goodness," she said dramatically, clutching her heart. "I thought I was going to have to dump you in the harbor."
"Like a gigantic bag of tea?"
"You know, we British folk are still a bit sensitive about that whole deal."
"Ha!" Banner chuckled. "It's been almost two hundred fifty years. Don't you think it's time to let it go?"
"I suppose your DBT would cure me."
Just then the two broiled lobsters arrived, tentacles hanging off plates and tiny white paper buckets of hot melted butter sloshing precariously between the claws as if the lobster itself were responsible for holding it.
"Sir? Your bib?" the waitress said, startled by Nate's vulnerability.
"I'm good," he assured her. "We'll take a bottle of the Francis Ford Coppola Chardonnay."
"Since you're paying," Nate said with a wink to his date.
Maggie's mischievous glint returned. "Not me. Needleman."
"Crap. I knew I should've ordered the Stag's Leap."
"Ha!" Maggie snorted, cracking a claw in half. "So, tell me more about the 'D' in DBT."
"Do you really want to talk about that tonight?"
"Why?" she asked. "What do YOU want to talk about?"
Nate fiddled with his lobster while mustering the courage for the conversation he really wanted to have, unhinging the tail from the rest of the lobster and peeling back the fins. Using his long, agile thumbs, he pushed the tender flesh through the tough red shell while Maggie looked on in fascination. "I'd like to hear about your fantasy," he answered, once the meat was safely liberated.
The server returned with the wine, uncorked it and poured a taste for Nate. Without pretense, he swirled, sniffed and tasted it, deeming it, "Nice" and nodding for her to fill Maggie's glass.
Maggie took a long pull and moaned appreciatively. "That is nice."
"Changing the subject?" Nate smirked, taking a bite of the meat still dangling between the fingers of his left hand.
"You really want to hear it? Right now?" she hedged.
"I really do."
Maggie took one of the skinny legs into the side of her mouth and bit down, spurting juice across the table and onto Nate's tie. "OH SHIT! I'm so sorry!" She stood up quickly and dipped her linen napkin into her ice water, dabbing madly at his tie. "This is why you should've worn your bib!"
"Well hell, honey, I didn't think I had to worry about you squirting me!"
Maggie's laughter reverberated in her throat and it was all Nate could do to resist kissing her again. Instead, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Here I thought that was a myth!"
Maggie slid her lips to Nate's ear and answered, "It's so not a myth." When she pulled back, Nate's eyes were ablaze with passion and he knew if she didn't stop touching him so close to his belt buckle, he'd never make it through dinner. Taking his tie in hand, he thanked her for cleaning him up and she got the message and sat back down.
Across the table.
Where she couldn't touch him. He was both relieved and incredibly disappointed.
He picked up a claw and was just cracking it in half when she came out with, "I have a thing for walls."
The claw slipped through his buttery fingers and clattered onto his plate. He cleared his throat and clarified what he hoped she meant.
Nate's eyes searched the restaurant for the nearest wall, and to his dismay, he discovered the only option in sight was a glass barrier between the diners and the Boston Harbor. Visions of taking her roughly against the glass clogged his bleary mind, as he pictured the scene from the other side. What would the lucky boater be treated to? The sight of her ass cheeks pressed against the glass as he lifted her around his waist and bounced her on his cock? Or would it be her tits flattened to two dimensions while he took her from behind?
"Yeah," she answered casually. "I really enjoy getting fucked against walls."
She was teasing him, and it was sure as shit working.
Nate gulped at his wine, trying to quell the storm swirling within.
I'm mindful of my engorged cock pressing painfully against my zipper.
Not working. Plan B, here we come. "You realize there is zero chance we're making it back to the hotel now?"
Maggie chuckled. "You're kidnapping me? I think Needleman will send out a search party."
"Fuck him. You've got five minutes to finish that lobster and then you and I are going to find ourselves a sturdy wall."
Maggie raised her eyebrow and dropped the butter-dipped lobster tail suspended from her fingers. "I'm finished."
Nate grinned and waved for the check.
"I do love a man who isn't intimidated by a fantasy," Maggie commented.
"Intimidated? No. Aroused? Hell yeah. Where is that woman with our check? Fuck it," Nate said, rising suddenly and nearly knocking over the table in the process. He pulled out his wallet and threw down three hundred-dollar bills among clattering silverware and rattling glasses.
Maggie's chin dropped. "Isn't that a bit excessive?"
"Who cares? Come with me!" Their buttery-lobstery-lemony fingers met over the table and Nate tugged her behind him gruffly, looking back only once in time to catch Maggie ripping off her lobster bib.
Nate steered them toward the waterfront, his head scanning left and right, searching frantically for an out-of-the-way vertical surface. Nate could hear the click, click, click of her heels and was grateful that Maggie was able to keep up admirably in her heels, even when he led her down a rickety set of railroad tie steps leading down to the water. He felt her heat close in behind him just as his eyes landed on a small boathouse. With a singular thought, Nate pulled Maggie around to the back to a wall hidden from public view. Turning to face her for the first time since leaving the restaurant, he asked, "Is this what you want, Maggie?"
Her eyes glowed bright blue in the moonlight and she answered in no uncertain terms. "Absolutely."
Nate nodded, then spun her around with a hand on her waist, forcing her back to the clapboards. Taking both her wrists in one of his hands, he raised them high over her head and trapped them against the wall. Working his knee in between her legs, he flattened himself against her, letting her feel his excitement for the first time. Their bodies heaved in perfect sync, breaths sharing an increasing rhythm. Nate dipped his head and positioned his tongue behind her ear, tracing a line down her throat and inside the top of her blouse. Maggie squealed and squirmed and Nate clamped his other hand over her mouth.
"Shhh, baby," he whispered urgently. "You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?"
She shook her head rapidly, her eyes wide with excitement.
"I need my hand back. Are you going to be a good girl?"
Maggie nodded solemnly, and Nate smiled. "That's better." His eyes never left hers while his fingers began a slow torturous trail over her chin, down her neck, got waylaid temporarily in the buttons at her cleavage before continuing down over her blouse. Her breath caught as he squeezed her breast roughly, and her nipple danced into his palm.
"Fuuuck, Dr. Doyle, do you have any idea how hot you are?" Nate asked, rubbing his thumb across the taut nipple poking its way through her thin bra. Before she could answer, he captured her lips with his and swept his tongue into her mouth. He wasn't usually one to take so forcefully, but Maggie was bringing out the beast in him, and there was no turning back now. One does not fuck a girl against a wall gently, as a general rule.
"I'll get back to this later," he sneered, releasing her breast and continuing the path down to her belly. She flexed her hips outward and Nate pinned her back with his knee, letting her know she was not in charge. She growled and he swallowed the noise with his hungry mouth.
His fingers curled under the hem of her skirt and she twitched when she felt them at the waistband of her nylons.
"I hope Needleman's budget can cover these," Nate quipped as he gripped the stockings in his fist and tore them right off her body, leaving her exposed to the cool night air.
Nate fumbled with his belt, finally managing to open it along with the hook and zipper of his slacks. He stepped in closer, his toes touching the wall, and Maggie sucked in a deep breath when she felt his erection against her, the thin layer of his boxers the only thing between his skin and hers.
"Look what you've done to me," Nate accused, swirling his hips and teasing her. "Do you want me, too, baby?"
"Nnnngg," was her response, her eyes rolling back in her head as Nate ran a finger through her slick opening. He smiled wickedly as he palmed himself, releasing his stiff length from his silk boxer briefs.
Leaning in for another kiss, Nate reached out and caressed her wet pussy. She jiggled against the wall in frustration and Nate promised, "Don't worry, baby, I'm going to take good care of you," punctuating his promise by rubbing his cock against her thigh.
"Nate," she whispered. "In my jacket…"
His eyes lit up as he realized she had hoped for this, too."No worries," he replied, reaching into the pocket of his pants, which were bunched at his thighs. Lifting the foil pack to meet his other hand, he managed to open it and sheath himself without taking his eyes off her.
"Ready, Dr. Doyle?" Nate asked, not willing to chance that she hadn't changed her mind.
"Yes, Dr. Banner. Take me!"
"Hold on tight, baby!" he commanded her, letting her wrists drop and clamping both of his hands onto her ass to lift her against the wall and set her down on his shaft. She closed around him and locked her ankles together behind his back. He could feel the powerful muscles of her thighs flexing and releasing as she pumped him.
"Mmmm," he moaned as she swallowed him inside her. It had somehow escaped his conscious thought up to this very moment that he was sexing up an expert. And instead of being intimidated the way he'd feared he might, Nate felt like the luckiest fucker on Earth.
Her inside walls gripped and massaged and coaxed him along. He dropped his face to her chest, biting at the material between his teeth and her bare breasts, vowing that next time he'd have her naked and writhing beneath him.
"Nng, nng, nng, ngg," she intoned rhythmically, as they moved together as graceful as professional dance partners.
His own low moans issued forth, and he buried his sounds in her chest. He gripped tighter around her thighs as she bounced along on his cock, and he stroked her deeper and longer each time.
And then, in the bustling Boston waterfront of an early autumn evening, Maggie cried out, "OH JESUS FUCK YES YES YES YESSSSS!" and he answered, "NNNNG NNNG NNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!" and they came together, just like in fairy tales and stories of fan fiction.
"Co-lead my workshop tomorrow," Maggie begged, running her fingers along his rugged chin.
He smiled and swirled his finger around her nipple, simply because he could, tangled naked in her king-sized bed. "I never even told you what I do."
"So I'll learn tomorrow," she grinned, her persuasive eyes coaxing him yet again. He'd have to be very careful of those eyes, he realized. They could talk him into anything.
"Sure. Okay. Fine," he answered, knowing all along he'd never refuse her.
"Damn, you are an adorable man. Are you sure you can't come home to Marylebone with me?"
Nate pulled her fingers into his mouth and sucked on them one at a time, his doleful eyes giving her the same answer as before.
"Oh fine. Well how about we hit the lecture circuit together? We could fuck our way across this country and then I could see about dragging your sweet ass across the ocean."
"My ass isn't going anywhere, Maggie. I have patients back home who need me, same as you."
Maggie turned away and sighed. "Oh, I know. I was just trying it on for size."
Nate wrapped his arm around Maggie's waist and pulled her against his spent flesh. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder blade and said, "It's a lovely fantasy, baby."
She turned her head to look back over her shoulder at him. "What would you say if you had a patient this needy?"
He nuzzled his nose behind her ear and answered, "I'd tell her to find a way to be with her man. If they care about each other that much, they should figure it out. It may not be tomorrow or next week, but it should be something they strive for."
"You mean that, Nate?" she asked hopefully.
"You bet I do."
"Hunh. I bet you're a fantastic shrink," she said, rubbing her ass against Nate enticingly.
"Sweetheart, didn't anyone ever teach you not to say that word around a naked man?"
THE END ~
(until Amber writes the sequel)
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little birthday gift for my dear friend, and if you're not reading Amber1983's The Search, you're missing one of the best Britwards in fanfic! I suppose you have some idea where that story line goes...consider this a giant teaser! (And no, this does not count as the LRR future take I've hinted at!) XXX ~BOH