[M]Too Old for a Pediatrician [Willem]

Willem hadn't even thought of the implications of whatever he said. He almost figured the Frenchman to be as open and uncaring about such matters as him, after all he didn't care who else Francis had fucked or who was fucking him. When Francis started to shuffle around, the Dutchman figured he was just switching around positions.

When he began to speak again though, it brought confusion clear to Willem's face. It didn't make sense to him why he seemed to be trying to run off now, and he tried to grab a hold onto Francis' wrist.

"Wait, what? But you're sick, remember? Nowhere else for you to go but home..."

A hand clenching around Francis' wrist made him still again, swallowing hard as his heart thudded against his chest. He shouldn't be here- or doing this! The guilt gathering in the pit of his stomach was making him slightly queasy and he lightly tried to pull away. Let go- let go... don't tempt me anymore this is wrong! his mind hissed at him.

But his throat was still too dry- and he only managed, "I... just- I don't-"

He was already standing up off the desk, eyes refusing to meet the Dutchman's or even look up from their spot locked on the ground. God how did he even get into this? It was his fault-

"Just don't what?"

His voice was low and rough, nothing out of the ordinary for him but a tad inappropriate given the situation. Leaning back down, he kissed the Frenchman's earlobe as he spoke. "You're the one who started hitting on me... wanted 'treatment' and now you're going to leave?"

Willem used his other hand to hold on to Francis' cheek, trying to force his head so he'd have to look at him. "Thought you said you wanted it as much as I did." After the taste of his lips, the feeling of him so close, he didn't want to let him just run off so easily.

A shutter went down Francis' spine and a different sort of guilt started to rise up. He had led the Dutchman on- it was true he had started this whole thing but... Merde what had he been thinking? Not with his brain that much was sure. "Never... mind-" he breathed out, closing his eyes as he let Willem turn his head.

"Just... over the desk, s'il vous plait-" he managed. He was really going to do this- chance ruining everything that might develop with Kirkland for a good time here- Shaking his head to clear it, Francis reached up and clutched the doctor's shirt again. "I do want it..."

The way that he asked 'please' almost breathlessly in French made the Dutchman grin again, slinking his arm back down around the other man's waist. He leaned down to nudge his lips again against Francis', kissing him again with fervor. There was no way now that he was going to let him go now, not until he was sending him on his way home.

Sliding his tongue along Francis' lips, he pushed him back to the desk again. Placing his hand right back over the Frenchman's groin, his one hand rolling around the fabric while his other hand's fingers entwined in the golden blonde hair.

"Well..." Grunting slightly as he pulled out of the kiss again, he continued on in French. "Maybe you should bend over it then..."

Francis fought slightly against the lips, eyes closing tightly and scrunching together- This was too intimate, to close. For him, kissing signaled something else than sex; at least, since last night. It had been so innocent and so... He really needed to stop thinking about that while he was doing this.

The hand in his hair distracted him more-so than the one on his groin surprisingly. His scalp had always been rather tender and if Willem was going to pull- Oh merde.. He breathed a little harder as the doctor pulled back, nodding to the suggestion (was it a suggestion even? or something more?) and starting to turn.

His hands supported him against the desk as he flipped around, leaning forward at a slight angle and not really trying to do more. After all, the Dutchman could always just press him down if he needed to- Francis was... admittedly, pretty flexible for a man.

"Oui..." he breathed out quietly.

Willem may of wanted to just throw the other back against the desk, shove him down hard and rough and finish things up quickly... Yet in all reality he stopped himself because even if it was simple allergies Francis was still ill. Once he did turn around, the Dutchman let go of him only to place both hands down on his back.

Stroking them down, fingers exploring the curves of the Frenchman's body, he quietly thought as he felt his body. Just a few mere minutes ago the other had seemed so much into it, into him, that he still couldn't figure out what had changed.

Oh well...

Willem stepped closer, letting his hands linger around his hips before pulling down his trousers. The peaks of Francis' skin he could see looked so wonderful, and he allowed his hands to fumble over the skin.

"So quiet now, hm?"

Nom de Dieu just get on with it and don't touch me so much and- just- fuck.

Francis kept his eyes closed tightly, trying to stop his body from tensing up but virtually unable to. His mind was running too fast- his conscious yelling at him and for good reason. This was wrong and he was just letting it happen and God, if a part of him didn't admit he wanted it he would be lying, but a much larger part didn't- It just seemed that part seemed to be locked away and he couldn't quite get the guts up to ask Willem to stop again.

Especially, when he started speaking in French again- Francis could feel his pants start sliding down and the breath in his throat hitched, his fingernails digging into the wood of the desk. "My God..." he breathed. "Just... get it over with, please- don't drag it out-"

He wasn't to sure if he sounded eager, or frightened.

"You're not doing the best job at making it sound divine, yet..." Willem murmured, not caring enough to try and decipher whether or not he seemed nervous or scared. Instead he slid the Frenchman's underwear down as well, his hands hands stroking and caressing the pale skin. Leaning down to rest his chin just on Francis' shoulder, he glanced at him with pale eyes.

"You want it that badly?" After the soft crooning, he raised one of his hands to quickly suck on his first two digits. It wasn't really the most ideal situation, but in a random situation like this, he figured the other must of been prepared for a bit of pain when he propositioned anyways.

Removing them and lowering his hand again, he let one finger rest against the Frenchman's entrance. Still snuggled close to his body, he kissed his neck lightly as he began to push the finger in. "One step at a time."

Sucking in a quick breath, Francis closed his eyes tightly, teeth digging into his lower lip as he lowered his forehead to the desk. This idiot was actually going to- he didn't have- Dieu, really, what did he get himself into this time?

And all for what? This?

"Don't you have any lube?" he breathed out quickly, feeling the cool, only slightly slick finger already start to press. It made him automatically tense up- even while he tried to force his muscles to relax- and made the already painful process even more-so. But for some reason, he had a feeling like this doctor didn't really care about his comfort level.

"Nope." Francis was right in thinking he wasn't giving much consideration to his comfort level. It amused him even more to feel him tense under his touch, a little sadistic side of him coming out in a small grin. "The condom is. Do you think I do this often enough in my office to keep some on hand, though?" Sounding like he was scolding him, he pressed his lips to Francis' neck.

"Mm... Shh. Relax." To try and help him get his mind off of the painful intrusion, he slowly slid his other hand down to Francis' exposed member. Curling his fingers around the Frenchman's flesh, he began to move his hand up and down steadily. "No fun having a little pleasure without a little pain, right?"

Relax? Relax?!

Francis was anything but relaxed, and far from being able to at this point as the guilt in his stomach ate at him more and more. He closed his eyes tight, letting out a soft gasp as he felt the doctor's hand curl around his cock. Dieu that felt too good to be right- he wasn't supposed to want this! His breathing laboured slightly and he pressed more against the desk, his feet spreading a bit further apart automatically.

"A-Ah-" he breathed out again. "W-Wait- merde-"

A moan broke out of his throat- God, that was just wrong- he shouldn't be-

"S-Stop... s'il vous plait Willem- Stop-"

The words and tone of voice that Francis was using was a more than clear enough indication that he wanted Willem to back off. Unfortunately for the Frenchman, he wasn't exactly abiding by those loud hints, his hands urged on instead by the subtle cues.

"But you want this, right Francis?" He teasingly crooned close to his ear, leaning in to suckle lightly on his earlobe. With his finger finally nestled inside of him, he began to slide it out. At least the blonde was lucky he hadn't gone and got to the main event right away, lest he be writhing in even more pain. Slowly yet effeciently sliding his finger back and forth, he quickened his other hand as well.

The feeling of hard flesh under his hand was something that he'd gone so long without feeling...

"Are you sure?~"

Why wasn't he stopping? Francis shuttered at the wet feeling on his ear, starting to pant a harder and the breaths getting shorter. His nails scrapped across the Dutchman's desk, his sweaty forehead pressing into the wood. "Willem... stop... Goddamnit-" he hissed through clenched teeth.

He couldn't even say he didn't want it- it would just be a lie. His carnal side wanted nothing more than to jerk into Willem's hand and get more of that delicious friction on his length. Even the discomfort from his finger was starting to fade with the distractions- Francis' will just wasn't strong enough to make him stop.

Not only that but- he vaguely wondered if the doctor would even let him at this point.

"Hn?" There was only one, and in Willem's mind a very good reason as to why he wasn't stopping. He wanted it just as Francis had claimed to as well. Why stop now of all times? His right hand only pumped the Frenchman's length steadily, trying to get him to push back against him, to moan, to do something else to prove how badly he wanted him.

Nudging his second slightly slick digit into him slowly even was just another attempt to get Francis back into it. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone who'd just been so sultry and seductive and enticed him could act so indifferent now. The second he'd come across that certain bunch of nerves, though, he was sure that the blonde would melt again in his arms.

"Come on... you don't really want me to stop, right?"

Francis was about to respond with 'Yes I do want you to fucking stopped that's why I've said it three times-, but he was cut off before he even opened his mouth. A bolt of pleasure shot up his spine and a somewhat muffled groan escaped from his throat. Oh damn that wasn't fair.

His brain by now was clouded, hazy- he couldn't think straight and that voice that had been stirring up the guilt seemed to be draining away more and more. The hand around his cock and the pressure on his prostate were quickly becoming the only things that mattered, and his body definately wanted more.

"W-Willem-" he breathed, trying to protest again, but only managing to groan out the doctors name.

Finally he got something he wanted out of the Frenchman. His blue eyes steadily continued to stare at Francis, able to tell and feel that he'd hit the right spot. Lips twisting into a wicked grin, he placed pressure on his prostate with both fingers. Stroking him from the inside and the outside, the doctor leaned in to nip the poor intern's neck.

"Yeah?"

The groan hadn't particularly been a question, but surely there was no harm in acting like it had been. Perhaps he could even stir up something more from the blonde, the whines of 'stop' long behind him now. "I want you to tell me when you're ready..." The words seemed kind, but his tone was still harsh.

There were marks in Willem's desk by now, Francis pressing more against the table and shivering as the hint of teeth met his neck. His legs weren't even holding him up anymore- the hands on him and most of his torso being on the desk the only thing keeping him up. The Frenchman was abusing his lip well, teeth bruising and breaking it, causing it to bleed just barely.

"Godyespleasejust-" he breathed out sharply, feeling himself twitch slightly. "Please Willem- fuck-

Stop wasn't the only thing long gone from Francis' vocabulary, but any other words of protest, his mind completely enveloped in the act.

There was the magic words. Willem shuddered at them, effortlessly sliding his fingers out of Francis. The Frenchman may not even be too occupied speaking in French anymore, but he didn't even have to move his lips to be divine anymore. To be honest, he was also damned glad to be able to finally be able to reach for his back pocket and grab his wallet.

It was a bit of a struggle to open it and grab out the foil packet, but he managed just fine. Letting go of Francis' member, he quickly occupied himself with undoing his belt and in a fell swoop, pulling down his trousers and boxers. It was almost enough to let out a sigh of relief, he'd been holding off on himself for too long.

"Hn... You look so good like that... Begging, even?"

Ripping open the foil and letting it fall as he pulled on the condom, he suppressed a groan as he rolled the latex on and finally situated himself against the blonde's entrance again, other hand gripping his hip roughly again as he began to push in slowly.

"F-fuck..."

Looking down at Emily's file, Arthur let out a small sigh. The little girl still wasn't getting any better and that was more disconcerting than it should be... Maybe it was time to man up and just try and work on this case with the Dutchman without trying to outdo one another. Closing the file and getting to his feet, he started out of his office.

His fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to comb through it, calming himself. This couldn't be that bad... Willem was a rational person when someone was actually sick and since Emily was getting worse, he'd have to put aside his own pride.

Arthur opened the file as he approached the office, head tilting down as he started to read again, merely knocking to announce his entrance before walking inside. "Hey Willy-" he heard the noises, the words and his gaze slowly moved up. That pale body, the tall Dutchman moving in and out and what- "No-"

The papers fluttered to the ground as the folder fell from his limp hand.

Cheek against the hard wood, Francis had to bite his tongue now to quite the steady stream of French and moans. He winced slightly at the rough hand, but that was quickly forgotten- lost in the strain and pain of the Dutchman stretching him. "M-Merde-" he breathed, a quiet knock echoing in his ears.

Shit. Merde. Baiserz. Stupide Willem- he knew it wasn't locked!

He only glanced back for a second, and barely heard what the man had said but-

"A-Arthur-"

So maybe he had been wrong. The bits and pieces of French he could pick up that Francis kept murmuring and the way he felt so tight and hot around him was without a doubt the best thing he'd felt in ages. Willem slowly slunk his arm around Francis' waist. Thank goodness for the other man's flexible enough way of leaning over his desk..

And just like that, someone had the gall to interrupt him while he was mid-groan, worry actually pretty prominent on his face as he turned his head to look.

Upon seeing it as Arthur, and just Arthur, he didn't even care about the papers spread across the floor now. Instead, the Dutchman only called out a simple order.

"Shut the door."

His mind was blank for the first time in his life. It was a strange feeling, while part of him felt empty, the rest of him, the small pounding muscle in his chest especially felt like lead. That mixed feeling, of nothingness mixed with the crushing tightness around his neck that was making his hard to even breath;

Arthur's feet started to work all of their own means, letting him moving from the room, one trembling hand still clutched around the doorknob, pulling it closed, the other raising, covering his mouth. And then, in that single moment, his mind forced a single word out of his mouth.

"S-Sorry-" The door closed and he stared at it. What was this? His eyes were warm, uncomfortably so and when he lifted a hand to feel his cheeks, they were wet. Allowing only one more moment of staring at the name engraved on the nameplate of the door, the Brit had turned to his left, starting to walk.

"L-Let me up-" Francis demanded immediately as he heard the door click shut. His hands were trembling again- the guilt almost doubled- no, tripled from before. How could he do this? How could he be doing this? He was still panting hard, gritting his teeth as he pushed up from the desk.

Everything was ruined- he knew it, he knew it and yet he still let it all happen. Stupide- Idiot- he was nothing higher than a roach-

Whimpering slightly as he straightened more, Francis bit his lip and closed his eyes again. "W-Willem... I said... let me up-"

As crass as it was, the second the door clicked shut, Willem was ready to just act as if nothing happened and keep going. It'd give him something to shove in Arthur's face the next day anyways... But when Francis began to protest, he slowly slipped out of the younger man, a bit of confusion across his face.

"...Just forget him. Let's just keep going." He muttered, even though the arm around Francis' waist was already starting to get loose. "He's not going to fire you or anything..." That statement was a shot in the dark, but he was ready to say anything to try and get the blonde to stay.