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secretobsessionstuff · 12 days

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Wow this was so hot! It's so hard to find other blogs that do stuffing to the point of vomiting! I didn't know I needed this rp until now.

Drew

So, I'm a little nervous to post this, but I'm throwing caution to the wind.

TW: This is an emeto kink, RP story. It is N S F W. The actual sexy action is mostly fade-to-black or otherwise described in general terms, but it’s still very clearly there, and sprinkled throughout the story. Don’t read if this is not your thing. But if it is, please enjoy getting to know Drew and Jeremiah a little bit better . . .

Drew had been planning how to celebrate Jeremiah’s birthday for over a month. Every detail had to be perfect, and that meant checklists, secret emails to their friends, research, and carefully dropped comments that offered hints of things to come. Now the weekend was finally here and Drew was nearly vibrating with anticipation. Jeremiah was calmer by nature, but Drew knew him well enough to tell how excited he was too. He touched Drew softly on the arm to ask if he wanted coffee instead of just calling out from the kitchen as he usually did, and twice Drew caught him watching as he got dressed, a thoughtful smile on his face. The second time, Drew stopped after he finished buttoning up his shirt and held up the dark jeans he’d been about to put on.

“Do you think I should wear black pants instead of jeans?” he asked innocently. He took a step closer, and watched as Jeremiah’s eyes dropped to his waist - and then a little lower, to where the boxer-briefs he was wearing hid nothing.

“Why do you have to wear either?” he asked softly. He reached out and rested his hand against Drew’s hip. “I can think of any number of ways we can celebrate right here.”

Drew let himself get caught up in Jeremiah’s mood and for several long moments continuing to dress was forgotten in favor of getting undressed again. Drew pushed Jeremiah backwards until he was sitting on the bed and then stood in between his knees, touching his chin to get him to look up. “We have reservations at L’Etoile at 7:30, so keep that in mind when you decide how carried away you want to get.” He raised his eyebrows. “Should I get on my knees? That won’t take long at all.”

Jeremiah snorted. “Feeling pretty cocky and confident there, aren’t you?” He reached out and grasped Drew’s erection.

Drew hissed with pleasure. “Cocky is certainly the right word for it.” With the greatest of effort, he stepped away from his boyfriend’s ministrations. “But it’s your birthday, so you get to be the one to climax first.” He lowered himself down to the ground. Jeremiah grabbed some pillows and shoved them behind his back so he could lean back and still watch Drew work. Normally they kept things rather fair in the bedroom but Drew intended to fully indulge Jeremiah this weekend, and had told him so. Now he was pleased to see that he’d listened.

“Make sure you’re still hungry for dinner,” Jeremiah murmured.

*********

L’Etoile, the French bistro where they’d gone for their first real date, was still a favorite of theirs, and as they ate they laughed in remembrance about how the menu had confused them that first visit. Jeremiah had still been a med student then, and Drew in his first months as a nurse. Both of them had been on their best behavior, still not quite believing that their weeks of flirting, not to mention getting mutually vomited on by two different patients, had finally led to the two of them, dressed in real clothes and not scrubs, sitting across from each other talking, and talking, and talking. Drew had known as soon as dessert arrived that this was going to be something more than a casual hookup; Jeremiah took longer, but when he finally fell, it had been hard, Hard HARD.

And now it was more than three years later. Jeremiah was Dr. Gable, almost in his second year of a surgical residency, and Drew was one of the most in-demand nurses at the hospital. They’d lived together for almost a year and neither of them got vomited on as much anymore. Not at work, anyway.

*********

Saturday had been spent hiking with Rory and Noa, and then Gabriel and Logan joined them in the evening at Jeremiah and Drew’s cozy home with its pocket-sized backyard; a rarity in the city. Jeremiah grilled steaks and then they all sat drinking and talking and laughing around the firepit until nearly midnight, singing Happy Birthday more than once and finishing the night with an enormous coconut cake, Jeremiah’s favorite. Gabriel, of course, had to tease.

“Coconut, seriously dude? Haven’t you heard of chocolate?”

“I haven’t, no,” responded Jeremiah without a hint of a smile. “Maybe when it’s your birthday and you get to pick your cake you can introduce us all to that flavor.”

“Touche,” said Gabriel easily, holding up his glass in a toast.

“I love coconut,” said Logan drowsily. Her legs were draped casually across her boyfriend’s lap. “And I don’t get it enough because my boyfriend always wants chocolate.”

They all laughed again and Rory burst into yet another version of Happy Birthday, this one in rap form. Drew felt a tiny thrum of satisfaction that Rory felt relaxed enough to let loose here. He was private and could be somewhat intense - until he got to know you. After that, if he liked you, he was fiercely loyal and generous, and funny as hell. Jeremiah had been Rory’s “big brother” in their college fraternity and the two were so close Drew had wondered at first if one of them had a crush on the other Jeremiah had laughed for a full minute when Drew had finally asked, assuring him that Rory was both straight and had been madly in love with Noa since he was sixteen, and that he and Jeremiah would have probably killed each other after more than a day or two of trying to date.

“He’s not remotely my type, anyway,” Jeremiah had said. And then he leaned in and showed Drew exactly what his type was.

********

And now it was Sunday morning. Drew had been careful not to eat or drink to excess the night before and after watching him carefully, Jeremiah had followed suit even though Drew hadn’t told him anything about his plans for the next day. It was one of the many things he loved about Jeremiah and what made him such a good doctor. His quiet observations had saved more than a few lives at work, and he knew how to take care of Drew’s needs often before he even knew what they were himself. When they’d gone into their bedroom, Jeremiah pulled off his clothes and wrapped his arms around Drew and it had taken all the man’s willpower to put his hand on his boyfriend’s chest to stop things from progressing.

“I . . . I’m leaving early tomorrow morning,” he explained, certain Jeremiah could hear the hitch in his voice. “To plan the rest of your birthday. I won’t be at home when you get up.”

Jeremiah raised one eyebrow. “May I ask where you’ll be?” He didn’t seem put out in the least to stop for now, easily grabbing a pair of pajama pants and pulling them on before following Drew into their bathroom.

“You can ask, but I’m not going to tell you. I should be back by 11.” Drew picked up his toothbrush. “I’ll leave you bagels and coffee to have before I get home.”

Jeremiah hadn’t questioned him any more, but by the small smile that kept playing around his mouth Drew knew he was intrigued. He waited until they were both in bed, about to turn off the light, before he gave his final instruction.

“Oh, and be sure to be wearing your white coat when I get home.” In the silence of the room he could hear Jeremiah blow out a breath.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said softly before kissing Drew gently on the lips.

******

It was 10:54 when Drew walked slowly up the front walk to their house. Behind him, the Uber drove off down the street, already hurrying to pick up its next passenger. He slotted his key in the lock to the front door and shivered, although not from cold.

Inside, he pulled off his jacket and walked into the living room. His heart was beating faster than normal and he wondered if he was imagining that he could actually hear it. He and Jeremiah had done things like this before, but not to the extent Drew had planned and not without both of them being involved in the planning. While he was pretty certain his boyfriend was going to enjoy it, Drew couldn’t quite shake the nerves that maybe he should have confirmed a few more details with him first.

He realized immediately that his worry had been unnecessary. Jeremiah was wearing his doctor’s coat as promised, seemingly oblivious to Drew’s arrival while he looked intently at a page of notes on a medical clipboard. He’d also set up the portable examination table he used in the mobile clinic in the middle of the room and Drew couldn’t hold back a shudder, both from his growing nausea and a sudden spike of arousal. He cleared his throat and Jeremiah finally looked up.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely. He had his stethoscope around his neck and was wearing his scrubs underneath his coat; by the look of things Drew was pretty sure Jeremiah wasn’t wearing anything under the scrubs.

“Do you have time for another patient?” he asked thickly. “I . . . I don’t have an appointment.”

Jeremiah’s gaze swept up and down Drew’s body, stopping an extra moment at the space where his t-shirt covered the unnaturally rounded dome of his stomach, and he sucked in a quick breath. “I do,” he nodded. “I had a cancellation. Why don’t you come in and tell me what the problem is?” He gestured Drew towards the exam table, which he’d covered with a white sheet.

“I’ve got a stomach ache,” he admitted. “It’s kind of bad.” A burp began to work its way up but before Drew could even swallow, the air fell back on its own. He puffed out a small groan.

Jeremiah nodded. “Come lie down; I'll need to examine you.” He touched Drew’s forehead. “No fever,” he said. “Are you in pain? Cramping? Nausea?”

Drew had to gather himself for a second. “Umm, all of those, but mostly nausea. I thought maybe it was just indigestion from breakfast but then I started actually feeling sick, and it got worse in the Uber. I’m really uncomfortable.”

Jeremiah’s nostrils flared in sympathy. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered. He watched as Drew slowly obeyed and then his voice softened. “Do you think you can lie flat for me?”

Drew suspected it wouldn’t feel good to lie down when he was so stuffed, but he wanted to do anything Jeremiah asked. He nodded. “I . . . I think so.” He lay down slowly on the table and felt the food in his stomach shift - when it didn’t crawl all the way up his throat he made a soft sound of agreement that he was okay. Jeremiah stood over him, his demeanor completely professional, save for a slight tightness around his mouth that Drew was pretty sure only he could recognize. He began the standard abdominal exam, first palpating lightly across each quadrant of Drew’s stomach.

“You feel a bit bloated,” he commented. “What did you eat today?”

These first touches were light, and they did more to increase Drew’s arousal than his nausea. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Jeremiah’s soft hands moving over his skin. “Too much, I think,” he said after a moment. He blew out his breath and exaggerated the discomfort in his tone a bit. “I was doing a - hic - a food review of breakfasts in the West End for my blog. Went to a bunch of places.” He took a deep breath. “Chicken and waffles at the first diner, biscuits and sausage gravy on an egg skillet at the second.” He paused to take another breath before continuing. “Caramel and banana pancakes with a side of bacon at the third, plus a chocolate filled churro while I was walking from the first diner to the second, and then I ate a couple of cream-filled fried donuts from that truck on Terry Street in the Uber; have you ever been there?”

Of course Jeremiah had; he’d introduced Drew to the place. One of the first times the two of them had explored their mutual interest in all things stomach-related had involved Jeremiah eating a dozen of the donuts on a dare. Drew had promised that he’d cook dinner and clean up every night for as many minutes as Jeremiah could hold them all down. They’d walked around the neighborhood, Jeremiah burping uncomfortably under his breath and doing everything he could not to throw up while Drew tried to hide how aroused he was, dragging Jeremiah into a store and watching him try to carry on a conversation with the salesperson. He’d lasted 22 minutes - the last few of those spent desperately trying to find someplace at least semi-private to get sick - finally ending up in an alley where Jeremiah vomited into a garbage can while Drew had fondled him through his jeans. They’d made out in the car before Drew felt enough in control of his body to drive them both home - Jeremiah continuing to burp up more of the donuts along the way.

Just the thought of that day, and the quiet desperation on Jeremiah’s face as he’d struggled to hold down the sweets, made Drew shiver with need. They didn’t do these things too often; as medical professionals both were protective of their health and avoiding risks. It had been a while since Drew had been able to indulge his boyfriend so purposefully, as opposed to when one of them was actually sick. But he didn’t say any of that, just watched his boyfriend’s eyes blow wide and then wider as he ticked off all the food he’d eaten. “Oh, and two cups of black coffee and a Coke,” he finished.

“Black coffee?” said Jeremiah. “But that . . .” He stopped and shook his head. Boyfriend Jeremiah knew how much black coffee upset Drew’s stomach but Dr. Gable did not. He put his stethoscope in his ears and leaned over Drew’s abdomen, listening intently. “Your digestion sounds sluggish and disorganized,” he said. “It could mean a few things.” He kept his hand on Drew’s stomach and Drew could hear Jeremiah’s own breathing increase. This was clearly affecting him too and Drew almost smirked and made a comment that maybe the doctor could reach his stomach better if he straddled him, right there on the table. But he didn’t want to break the roleplay - yet - so he just squirmed a little..

“What kind of things,” he asked. It was getting more uncomfortable to lie flat, but he knew he could last a little longer before having to move. His stomach gurgled but the air inside seemed to just want to swirl around and not move up.

“That depends,” said Jeremiah. “Did you start feeling nauseated in the Uber or before? And do you generally have a problem with motion sickness?”

Drew took a deep breath. “I . . . I was feeling sick before I got in the car,” he said. “But it got worse on the way home, I mean here.” He flushed and Jeremiah flashed him an amused smile at his goof before turning serious again.

“Worse in the same way, or was there anything different?” It wasn’t a standard question - normally knowing a patient was nauseated would be enough - but Jeremiah knew how Drew’s body worked, and he clearly wanted to hear his boyfriend describe all of his symptoms.

Drew thought for a minute. He’d forced himself to eat one of the donuts at the start of the Uber trip, too late realizing that the closest exit back onto the highway was closed for construction and they were going to have to zig-zag through a number of congested side streets. He’d tried to eat the second donut but could only manage a couple bites while the car was starting and stopping and making all the food inside him slosh around.

“I get carsick,” he admitted. “And the ride made me nauseous and dizzy, but . . . “ he swallowed down the saliva sitting in his throat. “. . . but I was already feeling nauseous before I got in the Uber. He swallowed hard. “My stomach’s churning..”

“Mmhmm,” murmured Jeremiah. His lips were pressed tightly together and Drew couldn’t miss the way his free hand swept across his waist, and then down to subtly adjust himself. Then he shook his head kind of to himself and cleared his throat. “I umm, I need to do a deeper palpitation now.” Drew could hear how his boyfriend’s voice was unsteady and it sent a jolt of heat to his groin - and a nauseating twist to his stomach. Jeremiah took another deep breath and his next comment was steadier, back to business. “Let me know if it gets too uncomfortable, but if you’re able to let me finish, please try to do so.” He pulled up a chair to sit in this time and set his hand, fingers together, over the lowest left part of Drew’s stomach, pushing in gently, but deeper than before.

It was uncomfortable and Drew couldn’t hold back a groan when a prickly wave of nausea rolled over him. Jeremiah’s hand stopped. “Are you okay? Do you need an emesis basin?”

Drew swallowed. “I’m okay . . . for now. I’m not going to get sick. It just . . . hurts a little.” It hurt more than just a little, but he wasn’t ready to give up everything yet.

Jeremiah nodded. “I’m sorry it hurts, but I need to officially discount a few things.” He moved his hand and pushed again. This time Drew hiccupped, and then a second time. The air and food shifted inside and a fresh wave of nausea washed over him. The hand stopped again, but Drew just shook his head, determined. The rest of the exam was delicious torture; Drew kept swallowing down his groans and Jeremiah ran his hands over his boyfriend’s skin in a way that was definitely not entirely professional. Finally he leaned back.

“I think it’s more than indigestion,” he said. “Although that’s definitely a part of it.” He tapped the side of Drew’s bloated stomach. “You ate a lot of fried and rich foods, and all that grease is blocking your ability to digest. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it’s not sitting well, and the motion sickness isn’t helping either.” He rested his hand on Drew’s stomach and gave him a gentle smile. “You seem to have created the perfect storm for an upset belly, pun intended.” He raised the end of the bed and Drew gave half a sigh as the food in his stomach settled back down from where it had been sitting in his throat.

“I want you to try to burp for me,” Jeremiah instructed. “To see what kind of relief it gives. Do you think you can do that?” He moved his hand to the center of Drew’s stomach. “There’s a lot of air trapped here around your umbilicus.”. His voice went fully into the medical mode Drew found so sexy. “It’s contributing to your discomfort.” He lightly percussed the area and Drew had to swallow hard as his nausea spiked again. “Have you been holding them in?”

“Yes,” Drew groaned. Hearing Jeremiah talk about all the grease in his stomach suddenly made him hyper aware of just how much he’d eaten and how uncomfortable it was making him feel. And his comment that some of the food likely wasn’t sitting well had a lot of truth behind it; Drew wasn’t exactly sure anymore how much he was playing up his symptoms. “I was . . . in public.”

“Ahh,” Jeremiah tapped again. “Holding down your need to burp for so long got the air trapped under the heavy food.” He paused for a moment. “And how do you generally handle black coffee?”

“It gives me indigestion,” Drew admitted. “And makes me nauseous.”

“I thought so.” Jeremiah’s hands moved up the sides of Drew’s stomach and then down. His thumbs brushed across the center of Drew’s abdomen where the bloat was the worst and then continued slowly lower until they weren’t on his stomach anymore at all. “You should take off your jeans,” said Jeremiah thickly. “Release . . . release some of the pressure.” He cleared his throat. “Doctor’s orders.”

As swiftly as his aching gut allowed, Drew undid the button and zipper on his jeans and pushed them down. When he bent over to take them off something wet climbed up his throat. He hiccupped and it turned into a shallow gag, and then another. “I . . . ulp . . . ulp.” He struggled to get control of his stomach. Jeremiah squeezed his shoulders.

“Small breaths,” he instructed. “Pant a couple of times and then take a slow, deeper one. Pull in air through your chest.”

It was a technique Drew himself used with patients at the hospital to try to prevent vomiting. He’d demonstrated the actions enough times that he barely had to think twice now before he was panting and then inhaling until the worst of the urge to retch passed. He finally breathed out and slumped against the bed.

“Okay?” said Jeremiah. He touched Drew’s cheek. “Let’s get you belching to try to keep that from happening again.”

Drew nodded. He knew the limits of the breathing exercise and that he was rapidly approaching them. Eventually he’d be panting over a bucket or the toilet and no amount of careful breathing would be able to stop anything. For now he needed a distraction.

“What’s the difference between burping and belching, doctor?” he asked carefully. Even though it was part of their game, Jeremiah wasn’t wrong about Drew’s need to bring up some air, and soon. The uncomfortable pressure in his stomach and chest was growing and he knew that if he didn’t burp pretty soon, he was going to vomit instead. Probably a good idea to say so, he thought. “Because I really need . . . need to do something - hic - to feel better or I’m going to puke.” He slowly sat back against the raised end of the table. “Can you - - - ulp - - - help me, doctor? I really don’t feel good.”

Drew watched Jeremiah hesitate only a second, and then he was helping Drew off the table and pulling him over to their couch - also covered with a white sheet, Drew noticed now. He sat Drew down and moved to sit behind him. It was obviously not proper behavior for a doctor but neither of them cared. Still, Jeremiah continued his explanation as if he was’t currently rubbing himself against Drew’s backside.

“A burp is usually shallower, '' he explained. “It’s air from the top of your gastrointestinal tract.” He traced circles on Drew’s bare stomach, feather light still. “A belch is generally deeper, from air lower down. It can be more relieving, at least for a while, but it can also be a precursor to vomiting.” He placed his hands on Drew’s stomach. “Burp when I press and swallow more air when I ease up.” He leaned over and grabbed a water bottle off the coffee table. “And take sips of this too. Hopefully we can work up to bringing up some of the deeper pockets of air without causing you to retch.” He rested both hands on Drew’s stomach and the weight of them made his discomfort spike.

He was so queasy for a moment he couldn’t speak, and then he groaned to his boyfriend. “I feel so full, Jer,” He leaned back against Jeremiah’s chest, ready to give up more of the charade in favor of being intimate. From his position he could tell exactly what this scenario was doing to Jeremiah and it was making him tingle too, despite the nausea.

Jeremiah chuckled softly. “I know, sweetheart. But it's better to try to hold the food down a little bit longer and get some relief this way. Maybe if you’re able to release some of the pressure you won’t have to vomit.”

They both knew this was a lie; Drew had made sure to eat much more than he would be able to keep down without continuing to feel completely miserable for the rest of the day. It was Jeremiah’s birthday weekend; of course things were going to end with Drew getting the relief he needed and Jeremiah getting the relief he deserved - just of a different kind. But holding back the need to vomit was something they both thought was hot, and so Drew intended to keep from throwing up as long as he could, even though he couldn’t deny that he was feeling sicker by the minute.

Jeremiah brushed his thumb against Drew’s belly button. “I can’t see your face so you need to keep talking to me, and telling me how you feel.”

Drew felt Jeremiah’s shiver. Hearing him try to talk through his nausea was one of Jeremiah’s turn-ons when they indulged like this. And despite Drew’s growing discomfort, it was another reason he would do everything in his power to hold out and keep his breakfast - well, his breakfasts - down for a little while longer, telling his boyfriend exactly how he felt.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Right now I’m both nauseous and queasy; is that medically possible, doctor?”

Jeremiah began to rub lightly up and down Drew’s belly. “It is,” he said. He touched Drew on the neck. “For example, do you feel kind of like there’s a lump in here you can’t quite either swallow down or get up?” His lips replaced his fingers for a brief second.

“Uh huh,” Drew groaned. “It’s a horrible heavy feeling in my throat.”

“That’s from the carsickness,” explained Jeremiah. His hands were carefully exploring Drew’s stomach. “The motion made you queasy. Let’s see if we can relieve it.” He pressed firmly into Drew’s belly with his thumb, pushing at a bubble of air, and Drew promptly burped. A bit of relief followed and he sagged against Jeremiah’s chest.

“Oh, that helped,” he breathed. “Do it again.” He wasn’t worried that burping was going to cure his nausea, but it would buy him some time. Jeremiah’s hands moved to another spot, pushed, and Drew burped again.

“Drink some water,” Jeremiah instructed. He pushed the water bottle to Drew’s lips. “Two big gulps.”

Drew squirmed. “I . . . I don’t know if I can,” he managed tightly. “I’m too full . . . i’m barely keeping everything down now.” He leaned forward a bit and began panting again, although it no longer seemed to be helping keep his stomach under control.

“You need some water in you to cut through the heavy food,” said Jeremiah. He drummed his fingers lightly across Drew’s stomach in a rat-tat-tat pattern. “Take one gulp and then let’s try to work up a few deeper belches. That should give you some relief.”

Drew forced a cough to clear the heaviness in his throat. “Give me . . . give me a second,” he stuttered. As soon as it felt safer, he swallowed some water and almost immediately burped again - this one thick and wet from deep in his gut. Behind him, Jeremiah made a sound Drew usually only heard in the bedroom.

“How . . . ahem, how are you feeling now?” His voice was nearly as strained as Drew’s.

In response, Drew took one of Jeremiah’s hands off his stomach and moved it lower. “I’m feeling really sick,” he said. “Trying to keep the water down.” He shuffled himself against Jeremiah’s lap and the man let out a soft hiss. He leaned forward.

“Hold on just a little bit longer,” he said softly against Drew’s ear. “I think you can manage to drink a bit more.”

Drew’s nausea was starting to overtake him but he wanted to comply with his boyfriend’s request. “I . . . I don’t know if I can,” he gulped. He burped, and then again, even without Jeremiah pressing on him, but they were shallow and didn’t offer much relief. Jeremiah moved his hand up from between Drew’s legs and put it back on his stomach.

“Slow, even breaths, sweetheart; try to hang on one more minute.” He held the water loosely in front of Drew but made no move to compel him to drink. “How are you feeling?”

“Really . . . sick to my stomach,” Drew said in a strained voice. The nausea was constant now and almost unbearable. “I’m so close to throwing up.” He took the water bottle anyway and took a small sip. Jeremiah’s hands twitched suddenly on his stomach and despite his crushing queasiness, Drew smirked to himself. This was exactly how he’d wanted today to go, and they’d be ending up in the bedroom, of course. He shuffled against his boyfriend again and Jeremiah’s breath hitched. Moving as slowly as he could so as not to jostle his belly, Drew turned himself carefully until he was straddling Jeremiah’s lap, facing him. Even with the care he took, another wave of nausea rolled over him, and he closed his eyes for a moment to focus on keeping his stomach in place for a little while longer. Jeremiah cupped the side of his face with his hand and Drew slowly opened his eyes.

“Happy birthday; I . . . hic . . . I love you.”

Jeremiah slowly pulled Drew’s face to his. “I love you so much,” he said. His eyes grew questioning. “Are you . . .” He stopped and took a steadying breath. “Do you think I can kiss you?”

The arousal in Jeremiah’s voice made Drew shudder, but it was the tenderness that had him nodding. “Gently,” he warned. They had laughed before about the irony that despite the mutual pleasure they got from this kink, neither of them particularly enjoyed being vomited on, or having to clean it up, if it could be at all avoided. Of course, sometimes it couldn’t be avoided, and that was okay too. But today Drew intended to empty his stomach into something that would make disposal easy. Jeremiah gave him an understanding look.

“Give me a bit of warning then, love,” he said. He gestured to the small table at the side of their sofa. “I have a trash can under there when you need it.”

When Drew needed it, and not if. They both knew he was getting close, although right now other parts of Drew’s body were demanding nearly as much attention as his stomach. He shuffled forward on Jeremiah’s lap and confirmed that his boyfriend was in much the same state. “I love you,” he said again.

Drew always said he’d never kissed anyone as good at it as Jeremiah was. He’d come out when he was sixteen, and had kissed - and sometimes done more - with a number of partners since then. He’d even had a semi-long term relationship in college. But he’d never been in love before, and even before he knew he was in love with Jeremiah, the man’s way with his lips had made Drew nearly dizzy with need. Now he moved them slowly and deliberately, touching his mouth to Drew’s before moving down and across his jaw.

Drew’s stomach gave a thick-sounding gurgle and Jeremiah stopped. “Still okay?” he asked, not moving his mouth from its place on Drew’s neck.

Drew was caught between wanting to grind against his boyfriend and needing to keep from jostling his stomach. He tightened his legs around Jeremiah’s waist and let all his weight rest on his lap. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Keep . . . urp . . .keep going.” This belch was deeper and tasted of an unpleasant combination of banana pancakes and creamy gravy. He blew it off to the side and swallowed the urge to let it turn into a gag..

Now Jeremiah groaned. “You’re killing me here.” He put his hands on Drew’s hips and adjusted his position until Drew was sitting directly on his erection. It felt beyond amazing and Drew shuddered, doing his best to focus on that instead of his nausea.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, carefully so it didn’t end in a heave, and then rested his forehead against Jeremiah’s and breathed out slowly. “I . . . needtothrowupsoon,” he said shakily, the last words coming out in a rush. “My belly is so upset I … can barely stand it.” As if in agreement the organ whined again.

Jeremiah moved his hands from Drew’s hips to cradle the sides of his stomach. “I think that’s the coffee,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe you drank two cups of it black. It’s got to be making you feel terrible.” He stroked up Drew’s side and even that gentle sensation was nauseating.

Drew gave a jerky nod of agreement. ““Wanted to make myself feel as . . . sick as possible for you,” he gasped, resisting the urge to push Jeremiah’s hands away. Talking was getting more difficult. Jeremiah could obviously tell; he moved slowly, giving Drew time to stop if he needed to, but he finally fit his lips gently around Drew’s again.

Drew really needed to burp, he needed to retch, he felt the beginning of a heave, but he pushed down all those needs in favor of kissing Jeremiah. When his boyfriend’s tongue softly sought entrance, he hesitantly opened his mouth, swallowing down bitter saliva as he did so. They kissed, gently but with some urgency, and Drew tried not to gag; the feeling of Jeremiah’s mouth on his - and then his tongue in Drew’s mouth - was almost too intense.

Jeremiah was obviously having trouble keeping himself under control too; his tongue searched a little deeper and then Drew did gag.

Jeremiah moaned with pleasure and his hips bucked involuntarily, causing his stomach to slam against Drew’s. The pressure was excruciating. Drew’s belly flipped and he pulled quickly away, unable to hold back the bigger gag this time. “B/in,” he choked out, slamming his hand over his mouth. He felt another belch rise in his throat, this one tasting of fried chicken and fried donuts.

In an instant, Jeremiah rolled Drew off his lap and settled him on the sofa. “Don’t vomit,” he commanded. He reached over and grabbed the trash can from under the coffee table.

Drew couldn’t speak. He desperately needed to be sick, and it took all of his effort to resist the urge to retch. He was only halfway aware of the bin between his feet or that it was catching the saliva he was no longer able to swallow. Jeremiah sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around Drew’s shoulders, drawing him gently back into a sitting position until he was no longer hunched over the trash can. “Breathe with me,” he said softly. “In and out.”

Drew’s stomach jolted with an aborted heave as he struggled to obey his boyfriend. He swallowed hard and found his voice, knowing what Jeremiah wanted to hear. “I’m trying,” he panted. “Too much . . . in my stomach.” He gagged over his next words. “Coffee n-needs to . . . hrrhk . . . come up.” He could taste it in the back of his throat. His stomach rolled again.

“It all needs to come up.” Jeremiah’s voice was soft in Drew’s ear, his breath heavy on his skin. “But let me help you.” He held out the water bottle, which still had a few sips left inside. “Drink this all down,” he ordered. “It will make vomiting everything up easier.”

At this point, Drew really didn’t need anything to make it easier for him to throw up. He grabbed the water anyway, forcing it into his protesting stomach. “Hic - hic - hic,” his body jolted with deep hiccups he couldn’t even try to hold down. The water came back up immediately and he lurched forward to spit it out. The position pushed out the belch he’d been trying to hold back, and then he was burping uncontrollably. Jeremiah’s hand moved back to his stomach.

“Talk to me sweetheart,” he said in a shaky voice. Dimly Drew was aware that Jeremiah sounded almost as close to climax as he was to throwing up. That knowledge, that Jeremiah was trying to hold on too, gave Drew the strength to try to answer, even though he was really past the ability to speak.

“Wh-a-a-t?” He managed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to use gravity to keep all the food down. Jeremiah’s hands were trembling as they stroked Drew’s belly. Drew gave a gurgling retch.

“Tell me something you ate,” Jeremiah crooned. “Something you’re trying to keep down for me.” His voice suddenly reverted back to his medical tone, which was his way of trying to keep himself in control. “You won't be able to avoid vomiting for much longer. The food you ate is moving up from the small intestine back into your stomach in preparation for expulsion.” He tapped on Drew’s stomach. “Can you feel yourself getting more full? What’s going to come up first, do you think?”

Drew had learned these facts about digestion himself in nursing school, but feeling it happening was an entirely different thing. “Yes,” he groaned. He felt unbelievably full and nauseous, more so than when he’d first arrived home, and all he wanted to do was throw up the food in his stomach. He leaned over the bin and spit, then gave a deep, choking burp. “I . . .I . . .” He struggled to answer Jeremiah’s question, but he couldn’t make his mouth work to form the words. The heavy taste of grease coated his tongue and he gagged again. The next burp bought up something solid and he instinctively swallowed it back down.

“Oh God,” Jeremiah groaned. “How are you doing that? It’s making me want to come right here.” He cupped Drew between his legs and groaned again when he felt how aroused Drew was before moving his hands back on Drew’s stomach. “One more time, sweetheart, and then go ahead and bring everything up.” He pressed on Drew’s stomach again and this time held his hand there.

Drew heaved up a mouthful of bitter coffee. It splattered in the bottom of the bin and led to a deep, greasy burp. There was food behind it, but it was so thick he had trouble bringing it up. Jeremiah thumped on his back, and Drew retched again.

“That’s right, babe. Get it up.” He released the pressure on Drew’s stomach and then immediately pressed in again.

Drew didn’t even try to hold back this time. He vomited a mass of his partially digested breakfast into the bin, caught his breath, and then burped up another mouthful.

“Oh god,” he groaned, mimicking Jeremian, although unintentionally. He belched and swallowed down bile. “I really don’t feel well.” He needed to throw up again, but was just able to hold back the urge long enough to tease his boyfriend. “Will you rub my belly? I’m so nauseous.” Despite his plea, he reached out instead to rub Jeremiah instead.

Jeremiah grabbed his wrist. “Wait,” he said in a strained voice. “Not . . . not yet.” He cleared his throat. “What do you need?”

Drew hadn’t vomited enough to give him any relief; his nausea was nearly as intense as before and he knew he didn’t have much time before the next round. “Bathroom,” he ground out. He stood up slowly, biting back a gag when his stomach sloshed. Jeremiah started to lead him to their nearby powder room and Drew shook his head.

“Ours,” he gasped, pointing weakly to the hallway that led to their much larger and more comfortable ensuite bathroom. He swallowed hard and quickly forced out the next words. “And take off your coat.” After all, he was wearing nothing but his underwear at this point.

Swiftly Jeremiah took off his white jacket and then the top of his scrubs. He started to reach for the tie to his pants but when Drew retched again Jeremiah grabbed his arm and began steering him towards their bedroom. Before they’d gone halfway Drew was gagging with every step and he covered the last few feet to the toilet almost at a run.

Even so, he didn’t throw up right away, just burped and retched and spit into the water until Jeremiah knelt behind him. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing himself against Drew from the back and snaking his arm around to Drew’s stomach in the front. “Let go, sweetheart.” Without waiting, he pressed into Drew’s stomach and he immediately vomited.

This time, it was harder to stop; he’d punished his stomach for too long and now it clearly wanted to purge as much as it could. Jeremiah rubbed his back while Drew burped and heaved up much of what he’d eaten, panting hard whenever he was able to catch his breath. At some point Jeremiah moved his hand down between Drew’s legs, teasing him with feather light touches. He carried on an encouraging stream of comments, softly urging him to breathe, or burp, or that’s right, get it up, as the situation demanded.

When Drew finally got control of his body again, he was still hard, and Jeremiah was too. He leaned back against his boyfriend while he worked on getting his breathing under control. Jeremiah’s hands trailed up his sides.

“Are you done?” he asked softly.

Drew hiccupped. “For now,” he said.

He wasn’t empty, and there was still some lingering nausea at the back of his throat, but it was manageable at the moment. He leaned forward and flushed the toilet again and stood up on shaky feet to rinse his mouth and then brush his teeth before turning to his boyfriend for a proper kiss. While his mouth hungrily explored Jeremiah’s, Drew pushed down Jeremiah’s scrubs bottoms and his own underwear, groaning now for reasons that had little to do with nausea.

“What . . . do you want?” He asked between kisses.

Jeremiah’s answer was swift. “You. Bent over in the shower.”

Drew sucked in his breath, thrilled by his boyfriend’s words. He opened the shower door and turned on all the jets while Jeremiah got what he needed from the medicine cabinet.

This shower was one of the things that had sold Jeremiah and Drew on buying the house. It was really a small room, with a wide bench at one end and half a dozen jets and nozzles on two of the beautifully tiled walls and ceiling. The steam was already thick by the time Jeremiah entered and snaked his arms around Drew’s waist. Drew braced his hands against the opposite wall and for a while, Jeremiah just rubbed his hands over his stomach and kissed his neck and across his shoulders. It would have seemed as if he was content to go no further if Drew hadn’t been able to feel him, hard against his back.

By the time Jeremiah’s hands crept lower on Drew’s body and explored for a minute between his legs, nausea had begun to swirl again in his belly, urged on by the humid air and heat of the shower. He belched wetly and Jeremiah froze.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” his hands moved back up to rest on Drew’s stomach just as he felt it flip. Drew had to swallow before he answered.

“A bit queasy again, but I want to keep going.” He looked back over his shoulder at his boyfriend and smiled. “If you do, of course.”

Jeremiah’s hands busied themselves at Drew’s backside. “Oh, I do,” he said. Even over the sound of the shower Drew could hear the need in Jeremiah’s voice.

Drew shivered. “I may vomit,” he warned.

Jeremiah rested his hands on Drew’s stomach again. “Oh, you’re definitely going to vomit. There’s still food in here that needs to come up, isn’t there? But not until I say.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Drew’s hips to position himself.

The motion of Jeremiah rocking against him upset Drew’s stomach even more. He gagged, letting excess saliva drip out of his mouth and wash down the drain. Jeremiah’s hands were heavy on his waist, and when they slipped down to cradle the fullness in his belly, Drew couldn’t hold back a retch. Jeremiah’s hands twitched against his skin.

“Not yet,” he said softly. His hands worked slowly across Drew’s body. Drew’s stomach flipped and he groaned.

“Please, I need to throw up.” He had to swallow over and over to keep down the urge to heave.

Jeremiah nipped lightly at his shoulder. “You can’t wait just a few seconds more?” He rocked their bodies in unison and Drew gagged, hard.

“Please,” he begged again.

“You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” said Jeremiah thickly. "It’s okay to let go,”

Drew couldn’t wait another moment. He threw up what seemed to be mostly liquid, splattering it against the back wall of the shower, then took a deep breath and burped, bringing up the last of his stomach contents. He groaned with pleasure this time, finishing with a shudder and pushing himself backwards against his boyfriend.

Behind him, Jeremiah swore with his own climax, wrapping his arms around Drew’s waist. He kissed Drew’s neck, and his cheek, and then slowly turned him around so they were face to face.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Drew leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you so much too. Happy Birthday.”

#I want what they have #emeto #That part about the coffee needing to come up was my favourite #the medical talk!!#what a guilty pleasure #I'm blushing from reading this lol

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