Spread Wide For The Doctor

I told myself the constant proximity would not matter, that Idris's commanding presence in these sterile rooms would stay professional no matter how late the nights ran. My quiet compliance has always been my shield, the thing that keeps my body under my own rules even when everything else slips away.

But the moment he opens my scrub top and settles the stethoscope against my sternum, the cuff locking around my thigh, something cracks. His gloved touch finds the scar I hide, and every order he gives pulls me closer to the edge I swore I would never cross. The hospital ethics mean nothing when his voice drops low and tells me to hold still.

I should refuse. I should remember the career and the grant riding on my control. Instead my breath catches as I wait for what comes next.