Dane Pollock, M.D.

As the title suggests, I'm a doctor. I'm 27 years old and just finished my residency in Boston. I moved to Asher just recently with my fiance.

(Source: )

masterwhitlock:

Dirty, Dane. I had no idea doctors were allowed to cross this line with their patients. [Julian teased, lips moving enticingly with every word. He studied his doctor with knowing eyes.] How exactly do you fantasize…us? Does your woman know? [A teasing flame lit his icy orbs to a playful hue.] I bet you’ve called my name out while pumping into her, hm?

His blood boiled with Julian’s words, simultaneously disgusted, horrified, and aroused. There were just so many things wrong with the man’s statement. For one, the blatant disrespect for his fiance. Even if he was having doubts about the solidity and happiness of their upcoming nuptials, he did still love her. Didn’t he? Yes. That he knew was true. And then there was the idea of fantasizing about Julian. It was terrifying. The man was his patient. And he’d be cheating on his fiance. How dare he!

…But what bothered Dane the most was that he could imagine it. Fucking Julian. And the idea made him ache with desire. Swallowing heavily, his jaw clenched in frustration, his gaze darkening. “You accuse me of crossing the line, Whitlock? I’ve been nothing but professional. But I guess now I know what desires you’ve been hiding,” he snaps, his voice level but angry. Though, even furious, he makes no move to pull back from the other man.

(Source: dipollockmd)

masterwhitlock:

Fine, Pollock. [Takes his cigarette back, using it as an excuse to lean in close to the younger man’s face. A cocky smirk played across his lips, briefly showing off his white teeth.] I can’t help the smirk as for insinuations…it’s not my fault if your mind instantly jumps to sex when I talk about you treating me. [Julian could almost scoff at the excuses Dane came up with.]

[His eyebrow arches as Julian snatches his cigarette back. He has half a mind to grab it back before the older man leans in. As a result, his stomach flip flops and he can’t tell if it’s because of nausea or something akin to butterflies. He snaps his gaze back up from Julian’s lips as he talks] …It. No. That’s not what you meant. I know what you meant. What was - . It was implied. [he says firmly, sticking to his guns even as he feels his cheeks heat a bit in embarrassment]

(Source: dipollockmd)

masterwhitlock:

dipollockmd:

[He keeps an unamused expression, the perfect poker face] Whitlock. Half the time when you invent these medical emergencies, I think it’s because you’ve nothing better to do. [He sighs, his voice quiet though his inflection is tinted with annoyance] …So. Are you done with your games?

I have many things to do…but this seems to be the thing I enjoy most. [Takes out a cigarette and lights it.] I’m dying slowly over here, Dane. Soon I’ll be nothing more than a rotting carcass. You better hurry. [smirks]

[His eyes narrow and he fills the gap between them, plucking the cigarette from Julian’s fingers. He feels it’s unnecessary to say why he did it] It’s Pollock. [he snaps, not used to Julian calling him by his first name and desperate to keep it formal] And stop smirking. For reasons. [he says, getting flustered] How is it enjoyable? To insinuate that we would ever have sex? I’m your doctor. That and engaged. And straight. [he adds hastily, almost as an afterthought]

masterwhitlock:

dipollockmd:

I have my own place, Mr. Whit - . Wait. I’m - . [His eyebrows furrow] …Tell me you were joking. [his skin prickles with anxiety but he can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or excitement]

Joking about what? [sly grin]

[He keeps an unamused expression, the perfect poker face] Whitlock. Half the time when you invent these medical emergencies, I think it’s because you’ve nothing better to do. [He sighs, his voice quiet though his inflection is tinted with annoyance] …So. Are you done with your games?

masterwhitlock:

dipollockmd:

I may be overly tired. I haven’t had this much lack of sleep since my first year of medical school.

Maybe…you should come crash on my couch. Or my bed. Or the kitchen counter. In fact…it’s now a rule in my house that you must sleep nude. You need to come over…uh…medical emergency.

I have my own place, Mr. Whit - . Wait. I’m - . [His eyebrows furrow] …Tell me you were joking. [his skin prickles with anxiety but he can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or excitement]

I may be overly tired. I haven’t had this much lack of sleep since my first year of medical school. Hysteria sets in.

I may be overly tired. I haven’t had this much lack of sleep since my first year of medical school. Hysteria sets in.