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pennyserenade · 1 year

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THE EXPERIMENT

pairing: joel fleischman x original female character, joel fleischman x unnamed ofc rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags: explicit, voyeurism, female masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), light praise, little bit of male sub, light dirty talk, consent is given at all times but sometimes it not explicitly spoken, a little of a prudish sex thing going on but it doesn’t have any basis in religion and isn’t really accusing, doctor/patient relationship (but is that really unethical if there’s only one doctor in the whole town? i mean, logically that’s bound to happen. i’ll leave this question of ethics up to you, though). word count: 8.7k+ (i wish i had words to explain this) summary: joel & ofc decide to explore the bounds of female sexuality & anatomy professionally, but find that maybe they want to explore something a little personal, too. a/n: well, they don’t call it the last frontier for nothing, do they? this was definitely a product of a mild case of insanity & too much self-indulgence. so i guess happy women’s history month to me. (also if you’re thinking: part one? is there going to be more? that’s up to destiny. i’m a mere helpless bystander at this point). also, also: here is a playlist/soundtrack for this story, just for your consideration.

study one, part one: simply irresistible

Don’t marry the first man you break the bed with. It will set you up for a lifetime of mediocrity.

The sound of her grandmother’s voice, heeding that exact warning, had been the reason she had agreed to do the study with Joel. At the age of nineteen she had married the man she had metaphorically broken the bed with and now at the age of twenty-five she lived in the small town of Cicely, one divorce down and a lifetime of mediocrity coming up on the horizon.

The thought of it scared her senseless.

She was still young, pretty, full of ambition. Points Fleischman had been made sure to emphasize that one night in the Brick, when the barstool conversation about self pleasure between Chris and the two of them had formed into something more substantial. They had drifted away from the erotic nature of the topic and had found themselves in the clinical, academic side of it, comparing thoughts on published literature and personal theories about sexuality. While Chris had tapped out halfway through, claiming he found talking too much about sex took the soul from it, she and Joel had doubled down. At one point she had remarked that women weren’t thought of in the medical field, not really, and told Joel if he really wanted to do something of importance, he’d tell all of his Ivy league doctor friends in New York to look into it. The bright idea came to him almost instantly as the words left her mouth.

It took him a week and a half, but eventually after enough of his convincing and her grandmother’s voice in the back of her head, she had agreed. “For the advancement of science,” she had told him one fateful afternoon, “nothing more, nothing less.”

He had beamed at the news and remarked, “Of course! I see you in a purely professional manner—just a fellow academic looking to travel the unbeaten paths of female sexuality with me. It’ll be great.”

The paths were not exactly unbeaten — the ‘60s and ‘70s had been a wonderful time for exploration, Joel had discovered by himself — but they certainly weren’t as smooth as they could be. She was happy to do her part, and happy to be occupied with something more than work at the café and nights at the bar and the impending doom of her future at large.

“Doesn’t it worry you?” Shelly asked, sitting down a plate of eggs in front of her. “The idea of Dr. Fleischman seeing all of your…well, you know?”

“He’s seen yours hasn’t he?” she asked, grabbing the salt shaker off the table and coating her eggs.

“Well, sure, but not like that. Only men I’ve really liked have seen me like that.” Shelly thought for a moment. “Do you like Dr. Fleischman like that? I suppose it would make sense if you did. He’s kind of cute but too young for me.”

“No, of course not. Joel’s too…Joel. Neurotic. Kind of mean. But also-“ she pointed her fork in Shelly’s direction for emphasis “-our doctor. It’s one thing to do this for science and entire thing to do it for personal pleasure.”

Shelly frowned. “I never thought of it like that. Poor Dr. Fleischman, no wonder he’s so high strung most of the time. I’d be angry too if I couldn’t sleep with anyone. You’re going to let him, though, for the study I mean?”

Too stunned to speak, she blinked.

Shelly colored. “Oh I thought—well, Chris said this morning on the radio that you were. Or would. But I guess maybe he could’ve been wrong.”

“Chris in the Morning?” she shrieked. “I was wondering why everyone kept looking at me like that when I was shopping at Ruth-Anne’s this morning! Just take the eggs, Shelly; I’m sick.”

Remorsefully, Shelly took the plate off the table. “If it makes you feel any better, Chris said he thought you and Dr. Fleischman were well qualified for the study, and you had everyone’s vote of confidence in the bar this morning. We never knew who had a degree in psychology.”

“Well there’s not much to do with a bachelor’s degree in psychology, even in the well populated parts of the United States, believe it or not. Here it really means next to nothing.” Laying her head down on the cold surface of the table, she mumbled, “Has Joel been in today? I don’t think I can see him until later. This is mortifying and I’m 99 percent sure he was the one who told Chris.”

“Well…” Shelly said nervously.

“What?”

“Hi, Shelly.”

She heard Joel’s voice coming closer. Her stomach twisted as she raised her head and saw him approaching, wearing a too bright disposition.

“Hi, Joel, would you like some eggs?” Shelly offered as he pulled out a chair. “She can’t eat them on the account that you’ve made her sick.”

Joel frowned. “Me? What in the world have I done? I just got here! I’ve been to no other place besides my home this morning.”

“You’re telling the whole town everything,” she whispered harshly. When he perked an eyebrow, confused, she added, “That I’m gonna sleep with you!”

Shelly shifted awkwardly. “I think I’m gonna go put these back in the kitchen while you look at the menu, Joel.”

Joel scoffed, ignoring Shelly. “I detest that,” he began, “I mean, really. You know how this town gets and your immediate thought is that I’m the one who’s the problem? I’m a professional and even if we are in the middle of nowhere, I still abide by a code of conduct. I could have accused you of the same thing, but I didn’t because I’m not insane. God knows where they get the information they do.”

“You’ve already ruined my breakfast and now you’re ruining my morning,” she huffed. Grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, she made to leave.

“Wait, wait,” he said, grabbing his own coat and chasing after her. He followed her to the door and opened it. She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling the stares of everyone turn towards them.

“Go back,” she told him sternly.

“I will not. We’ve got some things to discuss before tonight anyways, and I think it’s silly that you’re angry at me.” He waved his hand in the direction of the door, smiling with that stupid glint in his eyes—so self satisfied. “Come on. It’s going to be very awkward tonight if we begin like this.”

The outside air was chilly as they exited the bar. She pulled her gloves out of her coat and squinted against the morning sun. “What more could you possibly want to ask me?” She delivered the words sharply.

Joel didn’t let her defeat his mood. He nearly skipped beside her, hands in his pockets. “Oh, simple questions but ones I think would be better if I asked you in the confines of my office, given the way you’re reacting to this.”

“I don’t want to be a town spectacle, Joel, is that so hard to understand?”

“No, of course not, but you’ve got to know by now anything is a town spectacle in Cicely. And besides, who cares? This is for science. It’s honorable. We could even win awards for this.” She scoffed beside him and he buckled down, serious. “No, I mean truly. You know for the first time in a long time I woke up and felt like I’m doing something that matters? I’m on top of the world right now!”

“I’m honored you think so highly of the prospect of watching me touch myself,” she told him dryly. Surprisingly it earned her a laugh. He really was in a good mood—an impossibly good mood. Despite herself, she found herself fighting off a small grin at the sight of him.

He held the door open for her when they made it to his office. Marilyn sat at her desk as usual, knitting.

“Hello,” Marilyn greeted warmly.

“Hello,” she responded, the anger disappearing completely from her tone. “What are you making?”

Marilyn held up the fabric. “A sweater.”

“It looks very nice.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

Joel maneuvered behind her and moved towards Marilyn’s desk. “Listen, Marilyn, I want to make sure you don’t let anyone come back. Not at all. This is going to be a private appointment.”

“Should I lock up and go home?” Marilyn asked, not looking up from her stitch work.

“No, not that kind of personal,” Joel responded. “I conduct my own studies at my own facilities. It’s just a matter of privacy.”

Marilyn nodded. “Alright,” was her plain, unbothered response.

Joel’s office was as bare and as ugly as the last time she had seen it. That unappealing green shade they’d put on the walls had begun to peel, and that stupid New Yorker poster hanging behind his desk didn’t add much warmth to the environment. It served much of the same purpose that the calendar in the lobby did: his reminder to the town that his days in Cicely were numbered.

“You should really decorate or paint or something. This isn’t comforting at all. There’s no life,” she told him, taking a seat.

“As much as I appreciate your constructive criticism, I didn’t bring you here for your opinion on the decor.” Joel shuffled around in his bag, before bringing out a leather bound folder. “I brought you here for this.”

He handed her the paper out of it.

“What’s that?”

“Questions and consent.” Joel sat in his office chair. “I want you to know that this is likely to get a little awkward for the both of us, and that’s okay. I’m going to ask you vulnerable questions and you’re allowed to ask me vulnerable questions too. I’ll answer all of them.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, nerves beginning to fill her. He smiled softly — too kind. “Stop that,” she told him.

“What?”

“Just be normal.”

“Nothing about what we are going to do is normal. I’m just trying to make you comfortable.”

“Well it’s having the opposite effect.”

Joel ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath in. “You can’t possibly be this difficult the entire night. Stop being so defensive. I’ve seen you naked before.”

“That’s not why I’m being defensive! I’m just nervous,” she confessed, frowning. “I haven’t—I don’t know. This is so weird.”

“That’s why I’m going to ask you these questions. They’re about your—your, you know, comfort. Questions pertaining to what makes you feel good and what I can do to ensure that this study replicates a normal session for you.”

She glanced down at it. Questions like “Do you reach orgasm mostly from vaginal or clitoral stimulation?” and “How many times a week do you self pleasure?” popped out at her. Warily, she looked up at Joel.

He set his own page down and took off his reading glasses. “Listen, if this is too much, we don’t have to do it. I mean it. I’ll just find someone else. It’ll be okay. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m sorry. I want to! It’s just odd. I…It would be different if maybe we’d, you know…but we haven’t.”

Joel considered that. “Do you think it makes that much of a difference that we aren’t sexual partners?”

“No,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Maybe. I don’t know. I just feel like you’ve got an unfair advantage over me at the moment. Like you’ve seen me naked and you’re going to see me…you know, but I don’t even, like, know your full name.”

“Joel Haim Fleischman.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you wanted to be serious.”

“I’m trying to help you. You said you didn’t know, so I told you. Ask more questions. Anything.”

“Like about how you…you know?” She quirked an eyebrow and made a lewd gesture that made him grin widely.

He nodded. “If you want. I think that’s fair.”

She nodded firmly. “How do you, then?”

The old office chair creaked as he leaned back and tapped his pencil against his lap. It was a nervous habit, but he didn’t look nervous. Oddly enough — being as he was Joel — she figured this sort of thing would’ve discomforted him more than it did her. But he seemed at ease, professional.

“I have these magazines,” he told her plainly. “Standard stuff, Playboy and a few lingerie catalogs. I sit in my bed and I look at them for a little while, and I touch myself.”

“Like how?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Like…explicitly?”

“Yes. That’s only right. You said so yourself.”

They looked at each other for a moment before he swallowed and continued. “I…Well,” he laughed nervously, bringing himself closer to the desk now. “I have lube that I keep in my nightstand and I take some of it out. I put a decent amount in my hand and I—well, you know. I usually do it quickly and a little rough.” A blush spread across his cheeks but he worked hard to conceal the fact that he was growing unnerved. He didn’t move his eyes from hers. “What about you? Do you use magazines?”

“No. Sometimes I use erotic novels but mostly I use my own imagination.” She looked down at the paper in her hand. The questions seemed so…intimate. When he started writing on the paper, she looked back up. “What are you writing?”

“What you said.” Joel put his glasses back on. “Do you have a recurring fantasy or a scenario you go back to?”

She shifted in the chair. “There‘s a few. Do I have to describe them to you?”

“No, but it would be helpful if you could briefly talk about why these scenarios turn you on.”

She felt herself heat. “The control,” she answered meekly. “I…in my scenarios, I’m being managed. Not tossed around or roughed up, but you know, sort of bossed around. But nicely.”

Joel remained stoic as he scribbled more words into his page. “Do you use toys?”

“Sometimes a vibrator.”

“Do you penetrate yourself?”

“Oh my god. It’s barely 10:30.”

He looked up at her, hardly concealing his grin. “What? This is a basic questioning that I’ve drawn up from real, actual studies women have done before. Is there a better way you’d like me to phrase that?”

“I don’t do that. I mean. Not really. I mean, only once or twice but it’s not preferred when it’s just me.”

“Clitoral stimulation mostly then?” She nodded. “Okay. And you’re not allergic to latex?”

“Like condoms?” Joel nodded. “No.”

“And you’re still on the birth control? The pills?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t missed a day?”

“No.” She leaned over the desk to look at his writing. “You’re writing an awful lot there.” He nodded his head in agreement but didn’t explain.

Joel finished writing the last of his thoughts and then he leaned back again in his creaking office chair. He looked none the worse for having asked her those things, completely and totally unbothered. He could be unnerved, though; she saw it in those brief moments he had to talk about himself.

Strangely she wanted to see more of it. It went straight to her core, the idea of him laying there on his bed, looking at those nude magazines. Maybe even moaning a little lewdly. Did he moan? Whimper? She knew she could ask and he would answer.

She became embarrassed when she caught his eyes. “I better go. I’ve got things to do before you come over tonight.”

“But we didn’t discuss what we’re going to be doing.”

She stood from her chair. “You’re going to watch me. There, we discussed it.”

“But you haven’t signed the consent form!” He waved the paper in the air as she tried to make her escape.

She leaned forward to steal the pencil he had been holding. Quickly she scribbled her name on the dotted line. “Better?”

Joel inspected her through narrowed eyes. “You sure you’re going to be okay with this?”

“Positive. See you then, buddy.”

Buddy?

She was losing her goddamn mind.

——————

Torture. It was positively, without a doubt, torture.

After she had left Joel, she had spent the better part of the day absorbed in her own thoughts. Nervously she had made and re-made her bed. She had cleaned the house obsessively. She had tried on different outfits. Skirts and dresses and then plain blue jeans with simple sweaters. Then she decided on no clothes, only underwear. Then she tried on every undergarment she owned. Black lacy bras with black, lacy underwear; then plain white bras with plain white underwear; and then every other combination in between. Finally she had decided on the lingerie set that she had ordered a few months back.

It was a gift to herself to feel better about the fact that she was wasting away at the age of twenty-five in a little town she had to tell people was ‘someplace close to Anchorage’ just to save herself from the ‘Oh I don’t know where that is’ conversation.

The set had been too expensive considering the impressive lack of fabric, but she had never owned something so pretty before. The bra was strapless, sheer on the sides with intricate, see-through white lace covering the cups, and the matching underwear had the same sheer lace everywhere, except the crotch area. A white silk stripe of fabric covered the area in the middle there, leaving something to the imagination. It had also come with a white garter belt and stockings, but she chose not to wear those. After all, the set had been for her, not Dr. Joel Fleischman, M.D.

Even if she was dressing for Joel — though she wasn’t, truly — then so what? She had suffered enough. Maybe he was neurotic and on the whole not incredibly personable, but he had graduated from Columbia, making him a successful person. Plus, she was pretty sure that he knew where the clit was and that was more than she could say about the two other men she had slept with. And there had also been the way he had sat in the office chair and asked her those questions, almost completely unbothered. And the way he had confessed how he had touched himself. How he had emphasized rough…

She frowned. Maybe she could admit, just a little bit, that she wouldn’t mind if Joel happened to find her attractive. But that wasn’t a crime—it was almost more helpful. They had agreed, if this session worked, that they would conduct further research. Research done together. He had spelled it all out for her, in medical terms, of course: start with self pleasure; move to cunnilingus, perhaps paired with digital penetration (this, he had to explain, was what people referred to as ‘fingering’); and then end with coitus. A simple three to four week plan, if they found themselves comfortable enough. If she found herself comfortable enough.

God only knew she wanted—no, needed—to get comfortable. That New Yorker, fish-out-of-water business Joel had going for him paled in comparison to the existential crisis she had coming up. At least he knew he had his water when this was all over with. She hadn’t the faintest idea where she was headed.

———-

He came bearing gifts. Well, a gift, that was more a gift to him than it was to her.

She handed him a wine glass from the cabinet and he took it with a sheepish grin. “I forgot,” he told her honestly, opening the top of the bottle. “I wouldn’t have brought it if I remembered that you couldn’t have it. Your nerves got me nervous today, you know? I was just trying to think of ways to make you feel better.”

If she wasn’t so nervous still, maybe she’d find some humor in the sentence. But she was still nervous. Increasingly nervous. “Ha,” she managed. She tightened white silk robe around her body and turned around to get a glass of water for herself.

Joel moved up beside her, pushing his glass of wine in front of her. “Maybe just a little won’t hurt. But just a little.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I don’t want to interfere with the results.”

“You’re so nervous. That’s going to mess with the results worse than a sip of alcohol will.”

She pushed it away from her, looking away from him. She focused on the clean kitchen sink—how the light made the bottom of it shimmer. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“Well…” he laughed nervously. “I’m not sure we should be having this conversation right now.”

She looked at him. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I asked you to do this. I would never…I consider this a purely professional conquest.”

“So if I wanted to kiss me, you would?”

Joel licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed. “I…Would it make you feel more comfortable?”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if I wanted you to kiss me, would you?”

He inspected her face. “Yes,” he replied seriously.

Up close like this, she could smell him. He smelt like soap and fresh laundry; clean but not overly scented. Doctor-like. The outside clanged to him too, but just a little; it was the scent of the frost that came off of people whenever they stepped in from the cold, nothing offensive.

His face was more visible than usual like this, too. She noticed he had a scar that ran from the bottom of his cheek to the place just before his chin began. It was a prominent straight line, something she was surprised to have never noticed before. And then there was his nose, which she had noticed, but had never really admired. It was really very nice, long, sloped, and bulbed at the end.

“You have a nice nose,” she complimented, reaching out to touch it. Her finger traced down the slope and he laughed self-consciously, shaking her hand away. “No, really. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Oh, sure. Nadine Fleischman.”

“Mother?” she asked. Joel nodded his head. It made her grin. “She seems like a wise woman. Does she know you’re doing this?”

Joel brought the wine up to his lips. “This?” He motioned between the two of them. “Of course not. She would be strongly against this. If all goes well, I’ll just have to think of something to tell her. What about you? Do your parents know?”

“No. I don’t tell them what they don’t ask and they don’t ask much.” She shrugged. Placing the glass in the sink, she turned to face him. “I bet your parents are really proud of you.”

“Well, I try my best to make them proud. I’m sure yours are proud too, though. I mean, not every woman can pack up and move to the middle of nowhere by herself. That takes a certain amount of bravery.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re not all Maggie O’Connells here. I don’t have my own airplane and I think my move was more an act of cowardice. I wanted to get away from civilization for a little while.”

Joel clicked his tongue. “C’mon, you’re being too hard on yourself. Cicely and her lover Roslyn came here looking for the same exact thing, and you wouldn’t consider them cowards, would you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly an explorer, either.”

“But you are!” He beamed, catching his stride with this pep-talk. “I mean look at you. We’re moments away from conducting a study that could do some very serious good for the scientific and medical communities. And you brought it to my attention! Me, the one who went to Columbia. I know maybe that isn’t something you can report back to your parents about, but it certainly is something to be personally proud of. And I chose you for a reason, you know?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she teased, “It had nothing to do with the population size and the fact that I’m currently one of the only unwed and single women in the area?”

Joel tilted his hand side to side, playing along. “Only partially. Mostly though, it’s because you're intelligent. I never wanted to just watch you, and I still don’t. I want to be co-collaborators with you. I think that your input on this project will be almost more beneficial than your, you know, input.” He took another sip of his wine, smiling down at it. “Truthfully, if I thought there were more women in Cicely willing to do this, I wouldn’t have asked you to be my subject at all. But I would’ve still asked you to help me. And I mean that.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thank you, Joel,” she said, trying not to sound so affected. Then, finally: “I think I’m ready whenever you are.”

———

Her bedroom wasn’t overly frivolous: she had a sizable bed, a closet, her dresser, a nightstand, and a single, old wooden desk that sat to the right of the doorway. The desk and dresser had come with the house. The only piece of decor on her walls was a medium size poster that hung over the bed to make up for the lack of a proper headboard. In it, Bob Dylan and Joan Baez stood by another poster that read “Protest Against The Rising Tide of Conformity.” It had been something she had obtained and college and never got rid of. In many ways, she felt it was the only thing in the world that was really hers.

Of course, Joel found this amusing almost as soon as he had seen it.

“Robert Zimmerman,” he shook his head ruefully, “He’s one of me, you know?”

“What, Jewish?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of ironic that he’d stand in front of a poster like that with a name like Bob Dylan, don’t you think?”

“I never really thought about it. It's funny that you mention that, though, because she’s one of me.”

Joel looked over at her, puzzled. “What, an independent woman?”

She shook her head, laughing. “A Mexican, Joel.”

“No kidding.” He perked out his bottom lip, genuinely surprised.

“My father isn’t very dark,” she said in way of an explanation. “We come in different shades, believe it or not. Her father must’ve been darker. Or her mother. I don’t know. Aside from the fact that she’s a Mexican, I don’t know much else.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“Did I ask you if you spoke Yiddish?” she snapped back.

He narrowed his eyes, smiling drooping. “Is this a cruel to be kind thing you’ve got going on? You’re like Jekyll and Hyde today. Worse, maybe.”

Shamed filled her. “I know,” she admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit of bitch sometimes.”

He considered her for a moment. “It’s okay, I guess. My professional diagnosis is still a bad case of nerves. I trust that if they worsen you’ll tell me, because I don’t want to do this if you feel uncomfortable.“

“I don’t feel nervous, though! Not as much as before, anyways.”

“Good. There’s nothing to be nervous about. But if you do—know that consent form was merely something that said you consented to the results of the study being published, not the study being conducted. I’d never make you sign something like that with this. I want us to trust each other.”

“Thank you. I’m fine, though.” She took a seat on her bed. “What’d you bring in the bag?”

He sat the black backpack that hung across his shoulder on the desk and began to extract the items from it, one by one. “This—“ he held up a clipboard, “Is the paper I’ll use to record the results. I’ll write how long it takes for you to come to an orgasm, the ways in which you do it, what you use. You know.”

Listening, she laid back on the mattress. She allowed the robe–which she had made sure was fastened tightly around her the entire time–to slip open, revealing a good portion of herself to the air. Joel paused for a second, taking her in, before going back to the bag. She was flattered by the hazy nature he delivered the rest of the tutorial in, as if he was only half there, distracted.

“Does that all make sense?” he asked at the end. “I’ll use the timer to time you, and you’ll tell me when you’re, you know, orgasming? It’s pretty simple.” He made intentional eye contact with her.

“Makes perfect sense,” she told him, drumming her fingers alongside her abdomen.

“Right. So I’ll just—“ He pulled the seat out from the desk and grabbed the pencil and clipboard. Joel nodded towards her. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The slightly unnerved nature of him made her feel less intimidated. Watching him squirm, trying to avoid looking at her body—she liked that. She wanted to know that he could be made just as vulnerable—that she wasn’t the only one who felt nervous and anxious.

They maintained careful eye contact as she discarded the rest of the robe onto the floor, and continued to maintain it as she pushed herself up to the pillows. It seemed like he was almost scared to look lower.

“Joel?” she asked, sitting up on her forearms.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Will you kiss me?”

“Right now?”

She nodded her head.

“Would it make you more comfortable?”

“I think it would make both of us more comfortable.”

He smiled timidly before setting his clipboard down.

As Joel took off his shoes and tugged his tie loose at the end of the bed, her heart pounded against her rib cage fiercely, just desperate to jump out of her. It wanted to find some relief in a body that didn’t make it work overtime. Someone who was a little wiser with it.

“Is it alright if I keep my clothes on?” he asked, fingers still playing with his patterned tie. “I can take them off if you want. I once had a girlfriend who wouldn’t let me in her bed unless I changed or got out of my clothes, so if that’s a problem—“

“You’re fine,” came her quiet response.

The bed dipped under the weight of him and she felt the warm feel on his fingers brushing against her ankle. It was obvious by the way he looked at her, brows creased, asking silently whether he was allowed to do that—to touch her—that he hadn’t meant to. She nodded her head.

The gesture made her relax on the mattress.

Joel moved his fingers from her ankle and situated himself nearer to her, at the pillows. Awkwardly he attempted to make sense of their positions — her on one side of the bed, lying on her back, him at the other, practically on his knees. She found confidence in his lack of confidence, grabbing the sides of his open green cardigan and pulling him towards her.

At first he kissed her hesitantly, pecking once, then twice, each time keeping his eyes open and alert, watching her. After a bit, he began to realize that there was no protest waiting to rise up in her throat—that she was not just doing this for his benefit. Joel pressed his lips fully to hers after that. They were soft and warm, plush as he used them to map out her own mouth. He tasted like wine and mint gum, and was perfectly okay with what he did not know. He treated it like it was—a first—and it made her appreciate him all the more for it.

Sometimes - most of the time - men never did firsts like they should be done. They wanted to be experts, wanted to prove they were capable. Joel took no interest in that. He hovered over her, trying to understand before he moved. Even his hands remained respectful, just barely brushing over her back.

As the kiss became more heated, both of them began to lose their previous reservations. Joel’s body molded into hers; one of his arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her closer, and she placed one of her bare thighs between his legs. Beneath his dress shirt she could feel the outline of his frame, surprisingly hard and muscular. His nose brushed against hers as he moved his head to kiss her more deeply and she let him enter her mouth with his tongue, meeting it with her own for a moment.

When he accidentally brushed his hands over her breast, trying to re-situate, she mewled into his mouth. Joel parted from her, eyes at first remorseful, but that went as quickly as it had come when he looked down at her. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. Joel stared down between their bodies and she knew what he was looking at: the way her nipples had hardened beneath the white lace of her bra. It made her feel good, warm. Wet. She took his hand in her own, guiding him back to her breast.

He went slack jawed for a second, before coming to his senses. “Are you—oh, God.” He said, wearing a strained smile. “I hate to ask this now, but do you think maybe you’re ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

They kissed once more, more messy and less calculated than the attempts before. She tugged at the ends of his hair and he groped at her still covered breast, his warm palm scraping against her nipple. She moaned and he sucked at the end of her tongue after she had pressed it into his mouth with small kitten licks. Strings of saliva hung off their connected lips when they separated again, and he half grinned, breathing heavier beside her. “You’re going to do great,” he whispered softly.

The trip back to the chair was an arduous one he scarcely survived, almost tripping over the blankets and then his own two feet. When he sat back down, the sight of him made her laugh heartily; his mussed up hair, his red, swollen lips, the dazed look in his eyes. He laughed too.

“Put on those eyeglasses, Fleischman, and then I’ll start.”

Joel hummed, amused, but did as she said. The eyeglasses he wore every day sat on his nose and he watched, both expectant and—if she didn’t know better—she might dare to say excited. He leaned forth in the chair, licking his lips. No longer did he fear looking lower.

“Maybe, uh—“ He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “—take your underwear off? You don’t have to, but for the sake of, you know, me seeing everything, I think that would…you know.”

“Right.” She lifted her hips off the mattress and shimmed out of the nearly sheer underwear she had taken so much time choosing. Her left foot pushed them down her leg, to her ankle. With an amused grin, she tossed them in Joel’s direction. He caught them, shaking his head.

“I think you’re liable to be a lot of trouble for me, you know?”

“Is that right?” she cooed, opening her legs. The cool breeze in the room made goosebumps form on her flesh. His dark eyes drank her in.

“You’re not supposed to be cuming for me,” he told her, his voice low, seductive. “Cum like you might usually, as if I weren’t here. Close your eyes, lean back on the pillow. Think of your fantasies. Men who are a little rough… but nice.”

She let his voice guide her, shut her eyes, pressed her body back against the mattress. Her fingers strummed lightly alongside the inside of her thighs, teasing the area. She could hear the scrapping of his pencil against the clipboard when she did, and wondered what it was he wrote as her hands zeroed in closer to her core. She knew he didn’t want her to cum for him, but he never did say not to cum thinking of him.

After teasing her legs, two of her fingers began to massage her center, pulling her lips apart, and then running over them gently, up and down, up and down, not yet sliding a finger in to feel the slick she was certain had already gathered there. She began to feel the stirrings of her desire, warming her inside out, from the top of her head, to the bottom of her feet. It was electric. She felt like if he pressed her finger to her clit right now, she’d cum in a second. So she didn’t

She pressed a finger between her folds, allowing herself a little more sensation; she ran it up and down just like before, this time gathering up the wetness, taking it up nearly to the point of her clit, but stopping just short of it. It was a torturous act of self restraint, but she had learned from experience that it welcomed a more fulfilling orgasm–like denying herself it for too long only made it build up with more fury.

She began to think of Joel again. Thought of his nose, how the tip of it would feel as it scraped against her swollen clit, his tongue lapping the juices between her legs. How his fingers would press into the flesh of her thighs, tight, holding them apart. The lewd sounds of his tongue pressed to her cunt as he drew an orgasm from her, sucking her the way he had with her tongue, taking and taking and taking until she was nothing but a shaking mess in his arms.

She could feel her slickness more prominently between her legs now. Knew that Joel, who sat across from her, watching, could probably see it drip down her cunt—could maybe even see it glisten on her fingers as she ran them up and down and finally, remorsefully, letting two of them circle her own clit. She pressed down hard, her knees fighting to draw inward, and her one free hand clutching desperately to the pillow her head laid on.

She began to moan more openly than she usually allowed herself to, unashamed by it in a way she couldn’t bring herself to be in normal circumstances. The pressure was building up rapidly behind her clit and her body was begging for release, shaking ever so slightly. She thought of his mouth, how hot and wet it’d be, thought about how he’d run his tongue up and down her folds and maybe if she asked him—or better yet, maybe even if she didn’t—he’d poke the tip of it inside of her, filling her with him, before lapping her up greedily. How he’d pinch her nipple between his fingers and tell her how good she was doing-

“Oh Joel,” she moaned, “Joel—I’m—I’m cumming.”

She rode herself out until she felt it was all done—without bringing herself to another orgasm—and then she crashed back onto the mattress. She breathed fast, spent and electrified all at once. Staring up at the ceiling, she grinned.

That had been one of the best orgasms of her life.

“Do you mind if I say something mildly inappropriate?” Joel asked, his voice tight. She glanced up at him. He looked amazed.

“Go for it, Doctor.”

“That was the hottest thing a woman has ever done in front of me. God, you—“ He ran his hands through his already unruly hair, leaning back in his chair. He wore a faint grin. “I’m a proud Jewish man, don’t get me wrong, but if you were a religion I think I’d be converted.”

She laughed. “How long?”

“Hm?” he asked, eyebrows drawn up.

“How long did it take me to orgasm?”

“Oh.” He came to, remembering himself. He looked down at the paper. “A minute and thirty seconds. Is that usual?”

“Probably. I don’t know. Maybe a little shorter.”

Joel jotted that on the paper. Without looking up he said, “Do you mind if I ask you what you thought about while you did it?”

She propped her head up on her hand. “Is it a professional or personal question, Dr. Fleischman?” she said, toeing the line between flirtatious and serious.

Smirking, he replied, “Let’s say both.”

“I thought of you.”

His cheeks heated, but it was obvious that fact flattered him; he sat straighter in the chair and he grinned. He also found it in himself to be brave enough to ask, “What about me? Was I like the other guys you think about?”

She inspected him, saw the glint in his eye and the visible tent his cock had made, even despite the dark color of his pants. “Do you like being talked to through masturbation, Dr. Fleischman?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Well, I don’t know, I’ve never tried it before.”

She bit her lip, debating her next words.

On one hand she very much wanted Joel to come undone in front of her. It was obvious the thought of it was killing him too, making him tense. He watched her expectantly, sitting in that chair, clutching that clipboard so hard it practically made his knuckles white.

But on the other hand, she wondered what this would do to them outside of the bedroom. Her relationship with him had bordered on friendly before, but would it stay that way if they crossed the threshold from professional to self indulgent? She really did need this study more than he would ever know–more for herself than anything. He had been so kind the entire time, though–reassuring and soft, patient and understanding. There had been nothing they had done so far that he hadn’t asked permission for. And he was just Joel. Though there were times he could border on asshole territory, he never flung himself into it—especially not at the moments that mattered. She believed him to be good, someone she might have really liked if she met him on the street somewhere.

Drawing herself up on her forearms, she decided.

“Did that make you hard?” Her words practically dripped in sex. It had been so long since she had done something like this. But she knew it was right, felt it in the way he regarded her with that astounded, half surprised, half unbelieving look.

He tossed the clipboard to the ground. “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me,” he joked, fingers resting on his thighs.

She pulled herself closer to him, slowly, scooting just an inch down the bed. Getting on her knees, she reached behind her and unclipped her bra. “Am I? What would you know,” She shrugged, smirking.

He looked like he was about to faint from joy. “Oh my God,” he grinned. “Jesus, I never—you know, you think about this sort of thing happening but you never really expect it. This is the stuff of wet dreams. The stuff that only happens in the movies. Oh my God.” He tugged his tie looser.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

She crawled a few inches closer, stopping at the end of the bed. “Shut up and undo your belt,” she whispered.

He nodded eagerly, fingers pulling at the leather. The sound of the metal clanking filled her with anticipation. She bit at her lip, watching him. Joel looked up at her in the eyes and they shared something silently for a moment. It was an agreement, a pact. It said: this part is for us.

“Take yourself out. You got to see me. I want to see you.”

He unzipped himself slowly, practicing more self control than she thought he’d be able to. Maintaining eye contact with her, he reached into his underwear. Joel opened his mouth, a moan escaping as he rested his cock against his palm. She grinned. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to offer himself any relief. The shaft was already leaking, beads of pre-cum glistening the head.

In an odd way, this made her feel more womanly than she had in a very long time. Maybe in ever. The way he looked at her, eyes so full of want; the way he let her say and do whatever she wanted; the way he listened without question, like he trusted her – it made her feel wanted, needed..

“I know I said masturbation, but do you mind if…Well, I want to put my mouth on you.” She bit at her lip. “Can I do that?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he told her, exasperated. “Don’t you know that? Look at you.”

Joel made room between his legs for her body and she got on her knees. He took her head between his hands, smiling. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked her softly. She nodded, reaching forward to take him in her hand.

“Oh,” he moaned, face contorting with pleasure. His hands moved to the back of her head, entangling with her hair, and she leaned forward. Experimentally she licked the top of his shaft, her tongue flat. He ever so slightly thrusted his hips forward at the contact, laughing mutedly once she pulled back to look up at his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost inaudibly. He moved a piece of her hair back away from her face. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that—“

She cut him off, leaning forward again. Her tongue licked the underside of his cock slowly, following a vein up to the top where she sucked lightly, teasingly, at his tip. He worked hard not to rut his hips, his hands tugging a little on her hair, and she opened her mouth, taking him in. She tasted him on her tongue; this wasn’t the wine or the mint of his lips or the clean of his body; it was salty and purely him.

She licked a ring around his head before going down, wetting more of his cock. As she began to take him deeper, testing both him and herself, she found that was more apt at this than she thought; nearly the entirety of him fit in her mouth. Joel’s fingers tugged at her hair when she went back up, doing his best to stay still.

They looked at each other when she sucked at his tip again. It was a marvel to her how pain and pleasure looked so alike, but she found there was a definite difference when he groaned through gritted teeth and told her, “You’re taking me so well.”

The praise settled directly between her thighs. She took him fully in her mouth again and let her own moans vibrate against his cock as she slid a hand between her legs. Joel’s tugs began to grow a little harsher and she reached her free hand around her head, clinching onto one of the responsible arms.

She began to move faster, bopping on his cock, and his moans became more unmanageable, no longer something he could hold back. They were low, throaty, a product of all of his desires. She moaned against him, her hand beginning to work faster, rubbing tight circles around her clit and he began to draw his hips up to match the rhythm of her movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his grip on her hair loosening. He shuttered, fingers hovering over her shoulders. “I’m gonna cum. Honey, you better—“

She took him deeper, faster, her tongue running alongside the underside of him. Joel groaned deeply, his hips canting. Moments after she came, rubbing her sensitive clit harder, Joel did the same. His hot seed filled her mouth and drew herself off his cock, satisfied.

As she swallowed, he leaned back in the chair, blissed out. He moved the hair from her face again, breathing heavily. Joel smiled at her. “Thank you,” he told her breathily.

Exhausted, he leaned his head against the back of the chair too. He closed his eyes, laughing. Looking up at him, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, surprised at herself. But not ashamed of anything.

That surprised her more than anything: that she could sit here on her knees, between his open legs, naked and vulnerable, and not feel like she had done anything wrong. Joel didn’t make her feel like what she did was wrong; he basked in it. He leaned forward, once he got over the initial surprise, and kissed her on the lips. That too surprised her. She had put her mouth on him and he still wanted to kiss her. She wondered if he tasted himself – if he liked that idea as much as she did. All of the sudden, she had so many questions for him.

She must’ve been looking at him like he was insane, because he said, “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine. More than fine.” She grinned. “You…You kissed me.”

“Did you not want me to?”

“No, I did!” she clarified. “I just…I thought men didn’t like that after women went down on them.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I think that’s stupid, don’t you? You just gave me some of the best head I’ve ever had in my life and you swallowed it! You didn’t have to do that.” He shook his head in disbelief. “No way I’m not gonna kiss you. It sorta kills me to think you’ve been with someone who told you that. Going forth, know you shouldn't do that for men who think that.”

“Yeah,” she responded awkwardly, feeling inexperienced suddenly.

Self-consciously she leaned forward and grabbed her underwear from beside the chair. Joel leaned out and touched her. “Hey,” he said softly, “That wasn’t meant as a lecture or anything. I’m just saying. I’m sure many women, just as smart as you, have fallen for that exact same thing.”

“I know.”

He looked at her, frowning. “It’s okay that you don’t know things. There’s things I don’t know–things I wouldn't mind teaching me.” He paused, drawing himself up in the chair. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” she asked, rising from her knees.

“If you still want to continue with this, we can treat it as a learning experience for us both. No judgments, just experimenting after we experiment.”

She laughed, putting one of her legs in the underwear. “I know how to have sex, Fleischman.”

“I know you do – you’ve very much proved that – but it's obvious someone has got you a bit twisted up. I don’t think there's really a stopping point for sexual experimentation, either. Like today–I didn’t know I liked women who were a little dominant, but now I do. That’s the stuff you learn.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I’m being 100 percent truthful and I don’t feel self conscious about admitting that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I worked hard in med school and up until a bit ago, I was with the same woman for a very long time. It’s a simple truth that I have very few notches in my bed post, but I’m not opposed to learning. This whole thing–it could be for you and me as much as for the whole world. We’ll just have a little something for us when we’re done with what we need to do each week. What do you say?”

She considered it, walking around the bed to retrieve the bra. What the hell? she thought.

“Okay,” she told him.

His nose crinkled when he smiled. “That’s the spirit. You wanna get coffee with me in the morning?”

“I think I just want to be your friend right now.”

“That’s okay, but it doesn’t answer the question.”

She paused. “You weren’t asking me out?”

“No, just coffee. Friendly coffee. You can even pay for your own, if it means that much to you.” He leaned forward and grabbed the clipboard off the ground, putting it on the desk.

She was being too cynical.

She smiled. “No, it’s okay. You can pay, what with you having doctor’s wages and all.”

“Oh, thanks, you’re a real pal.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking at him. She smiled sincerely.“You are too.”

And for the first time since she had moved to Cicely, she felt she truly had something. Lots of somethings. Coffee in the morning and Joel and this, whatever this was.

It was as life was saying: Fish with no water, meet the sea.

#joel fleischman #northern exposure #joel fleischman x oc #joel fleischman x ofc #northern exposure fic #rob morrow #rob morrow fic #oh my god i did it

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