A/N: Smut.

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I'm still a little nervous when it comes to the Daniel situation. It's an awesome deal, but I have too many trust issues to think there won't be a catch. 

I plan to make it work for at least four months. That will give me enough to get ahead of my school loans while also paying for mom's treatments. Anything past that would be money in my pocket, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. He was way too hot and gave it to me way too good for this to last very long. 

When I walk off the elevator, I find the front door cracked open. Timidly, I push it open the rest of the way and let myself in. I kick off my shoes to place them in my assigned nook. "Daniel?" I call, but there is no answer.

When I go into the main room, I see him standing outside on the balcony. I walk over the fluffy rug and stand in the opened folding glass wall, just watching him for a moment. He stands against the railing looking toward the city. He's barefoot, still dressed in tan scrubs that hang from his amazing frame. A plume of smoke rises from above head.

"Daniel."

He turns to face me. "There you are," he says in a quiet voice. He stares at me with those blue eyes. Behind them, I pretend to see a smile.

"You're a surgeon that smokes?" I ask, still feeling playful from my time with Deven. "Didn't your general say that's bad for you?"

He growls under his breath. "It's a dirty habit." He takes what looks like a final drag. Something about him seems older. Tired.

I walk closer, leaning onto the tall balcony beside him. "Bad day?"

He exhales the smoke away from my direction. As he stamps out the rest against the balcony railing, he murmurs, "I lost a patient."

Shit. "I'm so sorry."

He hums some sort of response, though I'm not sure what it means. Slowly, he pulls me closer and moves to stand behind me. When he brushes my hair over my shoulder, I shiver with anticipation. 

He presses me against him, running his hands over my hips, stomach, and breasts. He kisses my neck and my body comes alive in an almost painful rush. I grind my ass against him, feeling his growing erection move in response. Neither of us says another word.

The shortness between us never seems awkward or in the place of greater conversation. Instead, it feels like a sigh after a long day; a relaxing exhale from all the duties and expectations that come with human existence. Between us, it's either silence or sex.

I fucking love it.

His hands reach down and unfasten the fly of my shorts. As he tugs the material apart, my pussy throbs with excitement. He slides one hand up under my shirt to cup my breast, the other slides slowly into my panties.

My breathing becomes labored as his hands explore me, his mouth sucking the sensitive skin of my neck. I moan softly when his fingers begin to swirl around my clit, quickly becoming slick in the wetness from my hours of delay. I widen my stance to give him better access.

As he continues his teasing, I find myself panting with the needy heat building inside me. It washes over me in a heat that intensifies my longing. The feeling of his mouth on my neck makes me quiver; His fingers rubbing my clit make my legs go weak. I lean against him to keep from falling over.

His teeth graze against my skin and I moan. My hips grind against his hand as I lose myself in the feeling, chasing the release I've been wanting all day -- until I realize I'm about to come. 

I gasp, calming myself enough to hold on. "We should go inside," I suggest.

"Why's that?"

Right beside us is another large balcony, and below us are many more. With all the glass on the building's facade, we may already have an audience. I giggle, still drunk on pleasure. "You want to fuck me on the balcony? What will the neighbors think?"

"We should find out," he whispers against my ear before nipping it.

"We shouldn't. Let's go inside."

He glides two fingers inside me and simply says, "No." 

I pout at him and whimper as he teases his fingers in and out of me. He stares at me emotionlessly and starts to move them faster, harder, right against my g-spot. I wail with the intense pleasure, shaking like a leaf under his demanding touch, but just as I'm about to go over the edge, he stops.

He removes his hands and starts pushing down my shorts. I help him remove them from my ankles, panting with my excitement. He tears at my thong violently, pulling it down to my thighs. I bend over to take it off the rest of the way, and yelp when his hand slaps hard against my ass.

"What? You don't like that?" he teases, his hand massaging my stinging cheek.

I look over my shoulder at him. "I didn't say that."

The corner of his mouth twitches up in response.

He yanks my hips toward him and pulls down his pants. Wasting no time, he pushes himself inside me. I moan when I feel the delicious stretch, the familiar comfort of his presence. He moves himself in and out slowly, sliding the head of his perfect cock against my swollen walls, The sound of my wetness audible even as I moan. My fingers wrap around the railing as his dig into my hips. 

Without warning, he picks up his pace, thrusting into me over and over, his hips slapping against my ass, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through every inch of my body. "Oh, fuck!"

"Do you like it when I'm rough with you, baby?"

"Yeah," I whine.

He grips the back of my neck with a hand and thrusts harder. "Show me," he commands. I clench around him. "Come for me."

My eyes roll back with the pleasure the washes over me. My pussy clenches around him, making me feel him more as he strokes inside me. I don't want it to stop, but I do as I'm told. Reaching my hand down, I rub my fingers against me in time with his thrusts, moaning as the pressure builds, and finally pushing myself over the edge. 

I cry out as the orgasm overtakes me. My pussy clenching and releasing in a nearly painful pleasure as it finds its long-awaited release. I continue to rub myself, my body shuddering and twitching as the feeling continues to flood through me. 

Suddenly, he groans and pulls out of me. He pulls me by the neck, forcing me to my knees in front of him, and then presses his cock against my lips. 

I take him into my mouth obediently, stroking him hard and fast as I suck. He cradles my neck, pressing himself deeper into my throat. I nearly choke, but as I look up at him, I can tell he only has a few seconds left. 

He pants as he stares down at me. I see it in his face; the tenseness of his brow, the way his lip part in a silent moan. Then it happens.

He spills warmly into my throat and over my tongue. I swallow it quickly and pull him from my mouth, stroking him as he continues to come, letting the rest dribble onto the ground. He tilts his head back, panting as he softens slightly in my hand. 

When he's finally done, he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He helps me stand and then begins to readjust his clothing. I follow suit, pulling up my panties and grabbing my shorts from the ground beside me. After I have redressed, he holds out a hand in my direction. I take it with mine, feeling a bit odd doing so.

He leads me back into the main room and over to the largest couch by the fireplace. I sit obediently when he gestures towards it. "Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?" he asks.

"No, I'm fine."

He nods and walks off towards the kitchen behind me. I relax back, breathing easy in the afterglow of my release, but ignoring the aching desire for more. It's been a long day. A long weekend, really. Remembering it all doesn't help.

After a moment, he sits next to me. He places a glass of water on the table before us. "You probably need this," he says.

"Thank you." I pick it up and drink it, washing away his taste and hoping it means more to come.

He lounges back on the couch and places his heels on the table. In his hand, he holds a glass of something brown that smells like honey. He takes a sip of it then leans his head onto the back of the couch. I know that position.

Defeat.

"Do you want to tell me what happened today?"

His eyes open again, but he doesn't look my direction. There is a stretch of silence before he breaks it with, "I did everything right." I lean sideways onto the back of the couch and let him continue at his own pace. "Going over every step in my mind, there is nothing I could have done better. It's ... unbearable that mistakes can happen outside of my control."

I tilt my head in confusion. Is he upset that he lost a patient, or just that he lost? That's probably not the best question to ask. "Isn't that the nature of brain surgery though?"

He lets out something like a laugh. "That's the nature of a malignant grade IV astrocytoma infringing upon the hypothalamus."

My eyes widen. "A glioblastoma," I murmur, my skin crawling with thoughts of things I'd rather not remember. "You operated on something inoperable. That's the definition of impossible, Daniel."

"Not for me," he says matter-of-factly. He turns to look at me. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That I was talking about a glioblastoma?" I hesitate, unsure of how to answer. He leans up onto an elbow. "Do you know someone who has one?" He leans up with a concerned expression and places a hand on my cheek. "Do you have one?"

"No, not me. It's ..." I don't want to admit the truth, but I don't want to worry him. "It's my mother."

His expression relaxes slightly. He strokes his thumb against my cheek and says, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine, it's just ... complicated."

He leans closer. "Do you not like to talk about her?"

"No," my body aches with my admission. "I prefer people not know about her at all."

"Understood." He traces his fingers lightly over my jawline and then collarbone, his cold eyes following them. "If you'd like, I could take a look at her scans. I'm sure you've already received a second opinion, but maybe I could provide another, verify her treatment is correct."

He looks back up to me, awaiting an answer, and I feel odd. As much as I prefer to keep my secret, it's been difficult handling everything on my own. I barely knew how to write a check when I had to find a facility for her. I did so much research, tried to put her in a place that would actually care for her -- all of it in secret. "You would do that for me?" I ask him.

"Yes."

I feel shocked that he'd be so willing to help me considering I'm basically a stranger he pays to fuck. "... Thank you," I say. He gives me a curious expression. "I feel lost a lot of the time when it comes to her and ... I really appreciate the help."

He stares at me for a moment then says, "I'm here for whatever you need, baby. Trust that I will take care of you."

I stare at him, my body humming. I climb over towards him and straddle his lap. He holds his drink aside to accommodate me and looks down his nose with an amused gaze. Placing my hands on either side of his jaw, I pull his face to mine.

I kiss him slow like I've wanted to do all day, gliding my tongue along his, tasting the smoky remnants of his drink. When I take his lips again, I linger, drinking in his scent, relishing in his comfortable distance. 

"Daniel," I say against his lips.

His fingers comb into the hair at the nape of my neck. "Yes?"

"May we go again?"

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A/N: Always remember to brush your teeth after you eat. Too soon?

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