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hartdoc · 4 months ago

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Heartbeat Roulette

The abandoned medical lab was a cold, echoing shell, its dim lights flickering over dusty counters and discarded equipment. The air carried a faint antiseptic bite, a relic of its past life, now a stage for two reckless, stunning outlaws—Milo and Kai. They weren’t medics, but they’d scavenged enough illicit gear to feed their cardiophile fixation: the visceral rush of their hearts pushed to the edge. Milo was a raven-haired renegade, his face a rugged portrait of brooding allure—sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw, and deep green eyes that glinted with a wild, restless energy. His body was lean and muscular, chest a tight expanse of olive-toned skin, pecs firm and sculpted, veins mapping his frame from years of testing his limits. Kai, sandy blonde and cropped short, was a sun-kissed rebel—his features bold, with a square jaw, plush lips set in a sly grin, and amber eyes that flared with daring. His chest was a golden slab of power, pecs broad and carved, faintly gleaming in the lab’s chill, every muscle a testament to his relentless pursuit of the extreme. They craved the sound, the feel, the brink of their steroid-charged hearts—and tonight, they’d chase it in a way that would leave them breathless.

Milo leaned against a rusted exam table, his black t-shirt clinging to his sweat-damp torso after their break-in. He pulled a stethoscope from his backpack, its black tubing swaying as he held it up. “You ready for this, Kai?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes sharp. “I want to hear that golden heart of yours up close—see how far we can take it.”

Kai smirked, dropping his bag onto a counter with a metallic clank. He tugged off his shirt, baring the chiseled glory of his chest, and grabbed a silver stethoscope from his stash. “Oh, I’m ready,” he replied, stepping closer, his bare skin catching the faint light. “My ticker’s already restless—let’s push it hard. You first, though—let me hear what’s going on in there.”

Milo grinned, slipping the stethoscope around his neck and pressing the cold bell to his sternum. “Listen up,” he said, taking a slow breath, letting the steady thud-thud-thud of his heart fill the earpieces Kai slipped on. “Hear that? It’s solid—but it’s itching to break loose. What do you think?”

Kai’s amber eyes narrowed as he listened, the rhythm of Milo’s heartbeat—strong, deep, with a subtle skip—hitting his ears. “Damn, Milo—it’s intense. Heavy, alive—like a storm waiting to hit.” He pulled the earpieces out, handing them back. “My turn—check this.” He placed the silver bell over his own chest, guiding Milo’s hand, letting him hear the quick, uneven pulse. “Feel that? It’s already jumping—ready for more.”

Milo leaned in, the stethoscope amplifying Kai’s heartbeat—fast, erratic, alive. “Shit, Kai—it’s wild. That little stumble—it’s pulling me in.” He stepped back, digging into his bag, pulling out a syringe filled with a clear, potent liquid—epinephrine, raw and dangerous. “No veins tonight,” he said, holding it up, the needle glinting. “Straight to the heart—let’s see what they can handle.”

Kai’s grin sharpened, his breath catching at the thought. “Right into it? You’re crazy—I’m all for it.” He grabbed his own syringe, matching and lethal. “Who’s first? I want to hear yours stop before mine does.”

Milo laughed, dark and low. “Me first—you’ve got the stethoscope ready.” He peeled off his shirt, tossing it aside, and lay back on the exam table, his olive-toned chest rising and falling, veins pulsing faintly. “Here,” he tapped his sternum, “make it good.” Kai nodded, positioning the needle over Milo’s heart, then drove it in—deep, steady—pushing the plunger slow. Milo’s eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping as the drug hit his heart, sparking it into a frantic, stuttering rush, loud enough to echo in the quiet lab.

Kai pressed the silver bell to Milo’s pecs, listening, captivated. “Holy hell—hear that? It’s going nuts—skipping, racing—total chaos.” Milo’s chest heaved, sweat beading across his taut skin, his pecs trembling as the epinephrine surged. “How’s it feel, man? Hot enough for you?”

Milo groaned, gripping the table’s edge. “Like my heart’s burning—pounding so hard it’s gonna bust—fuck, it’s a rush. Your turn, Kai—let me hear yours.” He sat up, shaky but grinning, grabbing his stethoscope as Kai took his place, his golden chest gleaming. Milo took the syringe, aimed for Kai’s heart, and plunged it in—slow, deliberate, watching Kai’s face twist as the drug flooded in.

Kai arched, a rough breath tearing free. “Goddamn—Milo—it’s like a jolt—heart’s all over the place!” Milo pressed the stethoscope to Kai’s pecs, the sound a frenzied mess—racing, skipping, barely holding on. “Fuck, it’s intense—feels like it’s gonna break through,” Kai panted, his amber eyes blazing.

Milo smirked, leaning closer. “It’s unreal—chaotic as hell. Let’s take it further—see how much it can take.” They swapped stethoscopes again, listening to each other’s hearts spiral, the lab alive with the amplified thuds and skips. Kai grabbed another syringe, a heavier dose. “One more, Milo—straight in again. I want to hear yours go quiet.”

Milo nodded, lying back, his chest slick with sweat. “Hit me—make it count.” Kai injected him, the needle piercing deep, and Milo’s heart went berserk—racing, then faltering hard. “Kai—it’s—” His words choked off, face contorting as cardiac arrest struck—sudden, absolute. His chest stilled, a rogue downed.

Kai’s breath hitched, heat surging. “Milo—shit, you’re gone!” He pressed the stethoscope to Milo’s pecs, hearing nothing—just silence where life had thundered. “Fuck—that’s hot—your heart’s stopped.” His hands roamed Milo’s chest, feeling the stillness, his own pulse pounding as he unzipped his pants, stroking himself fast. “Perfect—calm—mine.” He came hard, splattering across Milo’s pecs, the warmth stark against the cooling skin.

But the quiet jolted him. “No—not yet!” Kai dropped the stethoscope, tilting Milo’s head back, sealing his lips over Milo’s for mouth-to-mouth—sharp, urgent breaths, tasting sweat and desperation. Then he straddled him, hands slamming down for CPR—hard, fast, relentless. “Beat, damn it—come back!” Each compression rocked Milo’s chest, Kai’s blonde hair dripping sweat. Two minutes, then a choke—Milo jolted, chest heaving, alive.

Milo coughed, dazed, voice raw. “What—fuck—happened?” He felt the sticky mess, glanced at his cum-streaked pecs, then up at Kai. “You got off on me flatlining, you twisted fuck?”

Kai grinned, breathless, hands still on Milo’s chest, feeling the reborn pulse. “Hell yeah—your heart stopped, hottest thing I’ve seen. Had to bring you back—my turn next.”

Milo smirked, weak but fierce. “Next time, I’m listening to yours quit—and I’ll make it messy.”

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hartdoc · 4 months ago

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Sedated Resuscitation - The Ketamine Infusion

This was a commissioned work - an example of what I could create for you, should you decide to commission me!

>>CONTENT NOTICE: male-on-male, D/s dynamic, consenting non-consent, dark cardiophilia, sexual cardiophilia, resuscitation kink<<

Sebastian was anxious.

The lean young man bounced his leg and let his eyes wander around the well-kept bedroom as he waited. He knew the doctor was doing this on purpose—letting him steep in desperate anticipation—but he tried his best to be patient.

It always paid off to be patient with Dr. James Moore.

Sebastian mused about how his long-time found himself in a near-perfect circumstance to be a dreamy medical Dom as he waited, what with having just graduated veterinary school a year ago—combined with the steady financial supplements he continued to receive from rich and generous parents that lived a few provinces over, he’d accumulated a robust collection of equipment for their scenes.

Sebastian jolted when James finally opened the door. He was taller than him—but only just—at six feet tall, and his muscular chest and arms bulged beneath his teal blue scrubs.

“Hmph,” the handsome green-eyed man stifled a giggle when Sebastian was palpably startled out of his thoughts. The patient stood up and eagerly made his way over to him before he could even get the magic words out of his mouth, “the doctor will see you now. Come on in.”

The walk-in closet beyond had been converted into a small but perfectly serviceable clinical space. It wasn’t Sebastian’s first time in James’ fun room, but it was his first time being led inside specifically to be drugged, and he was instantly enthralled with the sight of the setup awaiting him. On top of the inclined procedure table, there was a neatly folded patient gown, and on either side of it, there were monitoring implements for his vital signs as well as the recent addition of a fluid monitor for intravenous infusion.

“Please change into this.” James tapped the gown. “With nothing underneath.”

Sebastian quietly sucked air through his teeth at the dominant tone he’d suddenly taken with him. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking, “whatever you need, daddy…”

James turned and deliberately watched his patient undress from across the table. Sebastian was long and lean, and he was anxious to examine and caress the athletic body that awaited him. He grew more excited in his own quietly stoic way when Sebastian turned around fully nude, with his perfect cock prominently on display at the end of the thin-but-distinctive treasure trail on his toned abs.

“Should I put it on with the front open or the back?” he asked with a suggestive grin tugging at the corners of his full pink lips.

“Front,” James cracked a smile as he pulled it over his shoulders. “Now, be a good boy and lay down so I can take your vital signs.”

Sebastian did as he was told, and James pushed up one of his sleeves so he could wrap a blood pressure cuff around it. He set it to go off and clipped a pulse oximeter onto his index finger as it inflated.

“Nervous?” James asked knowingly when the display revealed his heart rate was hovering around 100 BPM.

Sebastian held his breath for a beat. “Well, yeah… but I’m also excited…”

James tapped the display over the fluctuating diastolic pressure number as it got its reading. “Your blood pressure better be normal when I get back, then. I want to proceed with the experiment immediately.”

His stomach did a flip when James demanded that his blood pressure be within normal range. He knew it wasn’t something he could really control—and something about those facts together had him intensely turned on.

Before he could ask where, exactly, he was going, James had already left the room. He turned his attention to the small monitor on wheels to his left and watched his own heart rate with fascination while he waited for the reading on his blood pressure.

The quiet hiss of the cuff releasing its accumulated air soon followed, and Sebastian blew out a sigh of relief when he saw it was 131/75—he knew James would find this acceptable. He watched with an idle, relaxed grin as the doctor entered the room again with an IV bag of clear fluid—he reasoned that must be it, and his pulse spiked with excitement.

“Good, your BP is normal,” James smiled at him with his eyes as he hung the IV bag on a hook somewhere above and to the right of the patient’s head. “I need you to be calm for this procedure.”

“I’ll—“ Sebastian inhaled sharply and shivered when James ran one of his hands down his neck and chest. He pressed into his left pectoral with enough pressure to feel his heartbeat beneath, and for a few fleeting seconds, he massaged his nipple between his fingertips. “I’ll try my best…”

“Heh,” James chuffed when his submissive immediately began to writhe and moan softly as his touch. “God, you’re such a little slut.”

“Hhh—ah,” Sebastian winced with pleasure when he pinched his nipple to punctuate his point. “You—you like it.”

“You’re right,” James said yieldingly when he turned around to find a previously-prepared sheet of electrodes. He continued to explain as he pressed them in place on the smooth, tan skin of Sebastian’s chest, “I’m going to put you on the heart monitor now—ketamine is a type of anesthetic, after all… and I need to know right away if your pretty little pump is going to take to it well.”

Sebastian felt a sharp pang of arousal grip him when James tapped his fingers on his sternum as he spoke about his heart. After a badly-stifled involuntary moan, he managed to say, “you know what’s best…”

He finished snapping the ends of the cables in place on the electrodes, and right away, the second display on the patient’s right side began to trace his heart’s rhythm, as well as his respirations and blood pressure. Everything came up normal for how visibly excited he was, and James swung the pewter-grey stethoscope over his head from around his neck so he could use it.

“Lay quietly and breathe normally while I listen to your chest,” James commanded coolly.

Sebastian nodded and watched with barely-contained arousal as he put the instrument in his ears and pressed the diaphragm over his aortic valve. He looked up at the monitor after placing the bell on his chest, and Sebastian could feel himself become hard at the intense wave of vulnerability that overcame him upon realizing just how much attention was being paid to his heart at the moment.

When James looked back down at his patient to reposition the stethoscope over his pulmonic valve, he noticed how tortured and turned on he looked, and he saw him reaching for his stiff member out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah ah ah,” the doctor tutted disapprovingly and pulled Sebastian’s hand away while he continued to listen to his heart. “I told you I need you to be calm for this procedure.”

“I think,” Sebastian spoke quietly, knowing his voice was very amplified to the doctor at the moment, “you’re just saying that so I’ll cooperate.”

James ripped the stethoscope out of his ears and let it fall on Sebastian’s torso before he grabbed his other wrist. He looked down at him pointedly while he held both his hands in an almost-painfully tight grip against his chest.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Sebastian.”

James’ eyes pierced his own like daggers as he warned him of his apparent options. He held his gaze; he knew James had to release his grip in order to continue the scene, but he wanted to let him know in no uncertain terms that this was one of those times where the hard way was the preferred way.

“When I let go, are you going to behave?”

Sebastian beamed at him so innocuously, it could only be interpreted as mischievous.

“You want the ketamine infusion, don’t you?”

“Yes daddy,” he replied airily. “Of course…”

James could sense the imminent power struggle about to take place—Sebastian’s heart rate had spiked, and he had a certain look in his eyes while he waited for him to let go of his hands. He waited a beat, then feigned releasing his grip—and he immediately felt his patient try to jerk his hands downward.

“Don’t lie,” James rumbled as he forced his hands above his head, where two soft hospital restraints awaited his wrists. Sebastian tried to struggle and wriggle free while he bound him, and the trace reflected his efforts, but they were in vain. “Now, be. Good.”

Sebastian pouted quietly in defeat while James replaced the stethoscope in his ears and continued his examination. “But I want to come, doctor…”

“Shh,” James firmly placed his hand over his mouth and nose while he inched the bell around his heart. When he was done, he repositioned it over his right pectoral. “You’ll come when I want you to and not a moment sooner. Be good, and take a deep breath for me.”

When James moved his palm away, the patient silently did as he was told.

He promptly moved the stethoscope to the other side of his chest when he was done listening to the expired breath. “Again…”

Sebastian submitted for the rest of the auscultation of his lungs, but only because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable any longer. He knew what awaited him at the other end of this examination, and he wanted that and all that would follow more than a power struggle at the moment.

“Alright,” James acceded without taking the stethoscope out of his ears. He pressed it in position over Sebastian’s mitral valve, and with his other hand, he began to slowly stroke his now-painfully hard dick. “Now that you’ve calmed down a little bit, I’ll allow you a bit of a reward.”

“Hm,” Sebastian let out a soft contented grunt in response.

“But don’t get the wrong idea,” James quickly continued to put him in his place, “your bratty ass is going to pay the price later.”

The patient’s heart let out a premature ventricular contraction when James took that threatening tone with him, but he was otherwise unable to speak as the handjob grew more vigorous. He writhed and squirmed and struggled against the restraints, and he couldn’t help his growing arousal at the fact that James could hear every hard, snappy contraction that his actions were inducing.

“The faster you come, the faster you get what you want,” James said melodically. He was smiling, but there was something a little sinister behind his eyes.

“Yes,” Sebastian managed to say between pleasured sighs. He thrusted his hips upward and looked at him with a hazy expression that became more intense and lucid as he took in the sight of his doctor Dom leaning over him—stethoscope in his ears, hand around his dick, bell positioned just so on the edge of his left nipple—

“Ohhh…” Sebastian closed his eyes as a smothering wave of stimulus overwhelmed him when James repositioned the stethoscope slightly to allow him to massage his nipple with a fingertip. “Fuck yes, daddy…!”

“Shut up,” James instructed coolly without breaking stride, “and show me what your heart sounds like when you come.”

Sebastian did his best to limit how loud he was being and instead focused on the rapid climb of an orgasm he could feel fast approaching. He held his body slightly taut in a pleasurable shiver as James easily brought him to climax, and he moaned as he covered the doctor’s hand in his cum.

“Good boy,” James praised him enthusiastically as he trailed his gaze up and down his pretty naked body as he recovered. “Your heartbeat is so hot when you come.”

“Hmm…” Sebastian let out a happy sigh. “Just for you…”

James turned away to wash his hands in a shallow sink he’d built into one of the corners of the small room. He pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves as he spoke, “alright. It’s time for your infusion now.”

Sebastian nodded, still pleasantly sleepy in post-orgasm. He knew that James was giving him a chance to use the safeword by mentioning it like that, but he had no desire to use it—at least, not right now. He zoned back into reality when he felt him tie a tourniquet on his bicep, and he located a blood vessel to insert the cannula.

“You’re just gonna feel a little poke now—“ James quickly inserted the sharp on the inside of his forearm just as he got the words out of his mouth, and his lips twitched to a frown when Sebastian flinched and cried out softly. “I’m sorry. But it’s over now, and you’ll be feeling good right away…”

Sebastian moaned affirmatively and watched with intense interest as he removed the tourniquet and prepared the ketamine drip. He mounted the bag above the wheeled fluid monitor, made the appropriate connections so he could manage the infusion digitally, then inserted the sharp on the end of the cannula into the stopper of the port on his arm.

“I’m giving you more to start,” James explained as he carefully fiddled with the rate of the drip, “and then I’ll level it out when you’re in a good place.”

“Okay, daddy…” Sebastian replied distantly. It didn’t take long for the dissociative anesthesia to kick in—it hit him hard as soon as the substance was in his bloodstream. “Oh—there it isss…”

James chuffed with an amused look about him. He began to run his gloves hands up and down his torso as the ketamine fully set in, and Sebastian opened his eyes and looked up at him with a dopey, euphoric grin. “Tell me how you feel, baby. Tell me all about how good the doctor has made you feel.”

The patient let out a jubilant stoned giggle. “Whoa… I feel—I feel so floaty and—wait, what was I just thinking about…?”

James quietly readjusted the rate of the infusion with one hand, then resumed massaging his chest and playing with his nipples. “How good you feel right now.”

“Oh—right…” he sighed and settled into the vertigo he could feel coming on. “Uh… I’m kinda dizzy, but… itsa’… issa good dizzy…”

James inhaled deeply through his nose and moved one of his hands down to Sebastian’s cock, which was already semi-hard again.

“Good,” the doctor said pointedly as he rushed down to Sebastian’s chest with his mouth. A sharp pang of arousal shot through his own dick when Sebastian cried out at him abruptly sucking and biting at his nipple, and he reared back up to shoot his very flustered patient a sweet but evil grin. “Now, let’s see how your heart’s responding…”

Sebastian blushed when the doctor swung his stethoscope over his head again and put it in his ears. He was overcome with vulnerability in his defenseless state and had to look away when he began to inch the diaphragm around his chest, and he found himself staring at the monitor which traced his heart rhythm, respiratory rate and blood pressure. His heart rate had slowed down and leveled out around 85 BPM, and his blood pressure, oxygen level and respiratory rate all read as normal too.

“Mmm…” James feigned a concerned expression. “You’re a bit tachy for how sedated you are. I’m going to give you some oxygen, okay?”

Sebastian’s heart rate spiked as he said the words, and that’s all it took to get him standing tall again. “Mmkayyyy…”

The doctor suddenly became aware of his own erection as Sebastian slurred and settled into the intensely dissociative and analgesic properties of the drug. He found his oxygen tank on a counter nearby and twisted the valve to release the gas therein, then took the nasal cannula attached to it and carefully positioned it in his nostrils and around his ears.

Sebastian took a deep breath through his nose as soon as it was in place. “Ooh… this feels—so nice right now…”

James watched out of the corner of his eye how his cock twitched with his increasing level of arousal.

“You need to relax,” James said sternly as he moved to be in a position to better pleasure him again. “Relax, Sebastian. I don’t want to have to stabilize you so soon.”

Sebastian recognized from his tone of voice that the next part of the scene was about to start, so he tried his best to focus on the sensations that were exciting him the most. The sheer sedating euphoria was enough to make his heart rate climb into the mid-to-high nineties, and he began to breathe deliberately fast and deep to give the illusion that he was destabilizing.

“Huh—oh!” Sebastian flinched with surprise when James abruptly started to jerk him off again. “Ohhh… my god…!”

“Does it feel that good?” James teased as he kept it up.

“Yes…! Oh my god, yes…!” the patient shrieked as he squirmed.

James continued, but placed his free hand in the middle of his sternum and thrusted into his heart—just once—but it was enough to make Sebastian squirt, and his lips twitched with satisfaction.

“Patient isn’t responding to supplementary oh-two,” James pretended to report for the patient’s pleasure. “He’s destabilizing…”

He was right, of course. It drove Sebastian wild when he pretended to have another rescuer with him, and it didn’t take him long to come again with that thought in his head paired with his level of intoxication.

“Shit, he’s coding…!” James spat intensely as his heart rate steadily rose with the orgasm he was inducing. It peaked at 137 BPM and dropped off again in the moments following, and just as it was about to level out, James reached over and adjusted the settings on the monitor so it showed a flatline. “Come on baby, stay with me… daddy’s got you.”

Sebastian couldn’t help his slight grin and involuntary moans during the chest compressions that followed. His arousal was only potentiated by the euphoric effects of the infusion, and the mere fantasy of having been drugged into cardiac arrest had his heart thudding hard and fast against his ribs. He tried his best to remain still and limp, and fought the urge to kiss him when James pressed his lips against his own to fill his lungs with his hot breath.

“Come on…!” James grunted between tempered compressions. “Breathe!”

The patient shivered helplessly at his demand, but continued to lie still. His member twitched when he heard James pick up the hard rectangular paddles of the defibrillator nearby, and his anticipation almost became too much to bear when he realized the doctor was going to shock him for real. He watched through barely-open eyes as he gelled the capacitors over his naked body, and he couldn’t help a gasp when the cold, slick metal undersides were placed firmly around his heart.

“Shocking at 100 joules,” James exaggerated. He was really only charging a single joule, and would deliver it as a synchronized cardioversion. “Stand clear…!”

“Huu—ugh…” Sebastian grunted loudly as the current gripped his heart and stopped it for a moment. He felt James palpate his carotid pulse briefly afterward, and he looked down at his patient with concern that he wasn’t sure was genuine or part of the scene.

“Your heart rhythm is still irregular,” James explained, in a tone that was both a little detached and sweet at once, “I’m going to need to shock you again.”

“Please, daddy…” Sebastian arched his back as he begged, but the ketamine had him slamming his body back down into the table—there was an inexplicable heaviness in his limbs that made this all the more satisfying for him. “Shock me…”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” James whispered while he adjusted the joules dial to read 2J. He pressed the capacitors into his right pectoral and around the apex of his heart, rubbing their edges over his nipples as he did, and Sebastian begged for the defibrillation with his squirming body language. “Synced at two-hundred—clear!”

Sebastian twitched and gasped with the cardioversion, and the adrenaline of it all went straight to his dick. He writhed—both in pleasure and in pain—as James set the paddles aside and set the monitor to trace his heart again. He then used his stethoscope in a very quick examination, just to confirm his heart had taken the defibrillation well.

“We’ve got sinus,” James said while staring right at him. “We’d better keep him for further observation… among other things.”

“Other things…?” Sebastian slurred meekly over the steady beep of his monitor.

“Yes,” he replied coolly. He wordlessly increased the rate of the infusion and climbed onto the table afterward, with his knees on either side of Sebastian’s torso. “I’m going to resuscitate you unconscious now, Sebastian… and you’re going to let me, okay?”

Sebastian shivered at his voice, which managed to sound both dominant and pleading at once. He didn’t really register the meaning of what he’d said—the extremely sedating and hallucinatory effects of the higher dose overwhelmed him immediately, and he barely managed to reply before his mouth and lips seemed to go numb. “Of… of courssse, daaaddyyy…”

“That’s it…” James positioned his interlocked hands over his heart and locked his elbows. “Just give in… let yourself drift away… I’ll take good care of you while you’re gone…”

“Hhh—hhh—while—I’m—gone…?” Sebastian tripped over his tongue to get the words out between compressions. He wanted to know what that meant, before…

“Mhm,” the large man hummed matter-of-factly. He paused to inch the dosage he was getting upward a few more digits, but resumed before the patient could respond. “I bet you’re just immeasurably sexy when you’re coding for real…”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, and his previously sedate heart rate spiked dramatically in a panic. “Ugh—dah—no—!”

“What was that?” James teased through a sinister smile while he continued to compress his chest. “You have to speak up, Sebastian…”

He knew that he was giving him yet another chance to use the safeword, and Sebastian might have used it—if he hadn’t blinked and become stuck in the drug-induced visuals behind his eyelids. He opened his mouth, in an attempt to utter it anyway—but nothing came out. He had forgotten it.

James had already ceased CPR when Sebastian fell unconscious, and he rapidly undressed while his vital signs continued to tank with the overdose he’d just administered. When he was fully nude, he stopped the drip and removed the cannula from the port on his arm.

“Oh,” James moaned involuntarily as he watched the patient gradually slip into full arrest on his table. He furiously jerked himself off over his limp, sexy body—he was so aroused by this point that it had become painful, and he knew he needed release now.

He took the stethoscope sitting nearby and lazily opened it with one hand and placed it in his ears. Sebastian had stopped breathing, and his heart wasn’t far behind. He listened with delight as the little pump beneath his sternum struggled against the ketamine and the lack of oxygen, and just before it started to fibrillate, James brought himself to orgasm.

“Oh—my god,” he exclaimed shakily when he came all over Sebastian’s abs. “You really are so fucking hot when you’re coding.”

James immediately turned around and grabbed the still-gelled paddles from the top of the Lifepak unit and slammed them against Sebastian’s glistening chest while adjusting the joules dial with his thumb.

“Shocking at two-hundred joules,” he said over the blaring ventricular fibrillation alarm, “clear.”

He pushed into Sebastian’s heart as he delivered the shock. His chest twitched and his arms tried to spring up, but they were held in place by the restraints.

James watched as the line for his heart went flat for a few moments, but it continued to trace the life-threatening arrhythmia afterward. Seemingly unconcerned, James coolly steadied his grip on the paddles and increased the output to 300J.

“Defibbing again at 300,” he announced to his imaginary resuscitation team, just in case the patient could hear him. “Clear!”

The current surged between the paddles and rocked Sebastian’s body, but it was in vain. As his body settled on the table again, the traces for his vital signs went flat, and the steady monotone asystole alarm filled the small space.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” James assured both himself and his patient as he propped his knee up on the side of the table. He launched into textbook-perfect compressions the moment his hands were in place, and he watched how Sebastian’s body moved with his resuscitation efforts with obvious and acute arousal.

“C’mon, breathe for me,” he commanded when the cycle came to an end. He pinched his nose and tipped his chin back in the same motion, then crushed his mouth with his own to deliver three deep rescue breaths. He admired out of the corner of his eye how his chest expanded and fell along with it, then tirelessly continued CPR.

“Fuck,” James cursed under his breath when the second cycle passed without response. He found the ambu bag among his reams of equipment and connected it to the oxygen tank so he could ventilate him properly, and once the mask was in place over his mouth and nose, he squeezed it five times consecutively.

“C’mon, Sebastian… come back for me,” the doctor pleaded between increasingly vigorous compressions. He wasn’t allowing himself to be worried yet, but as the third cycle threatened to come to an end without response, he thought the patient might benefit from a hit of epinephrine.

He was mentally locating the vial in his head when the flatline was interrupted by an agonal rhythm. James whipped his head over and saw another shockable rhythm after that—it was ventricular fibrillation so fine that the trace barely registered it, but it was there nonetheless.

He urgently leaned back and picked up the defibrillator again, but in his quiet, creeping desperation, he forgot to re-gel the capacitors. James silently paddled Sebastian’s heart again, and he winced when he saw the dark outline of the capacitors burned onto his pretty chest.

“Damn it,” the usually composed doctor spat the words when his patient flatlined again. “Don’t give up on me now, baby. Not when we’re having so much fun…”

James gave him another two deep squeezes of oxygenated air before he resumed beating into his sternum. His stomach ballooned dramatically with each sharp push into his heart, and while the sensation of his chest bending beneath his grip was almost too enjoyable, he knew he had to get him back sooner rather than later and stopped so he could administer a shot of epinephrine.

“Alright, Sebastian…” James said as he tapped the prepared syringe with his gloved fingers. “Show daddy what you’re made of.”

He stroked the inside of his thigh with a deliberately gentle touch while he pushed the epinephrine through the port on his arm. He then held his hand and lifted it to hurry the drug along his bloodstream, and, after a few long seconds—Sebastian gasped.

“There you go,” the doctor gave him an affirming tap after palpating his femoral pulse. It wasn’t normal, as was reflected by the erratic waveforms on the patient monitor, but he was confident that another jolt to his heart would correct it. “Keep breathing—you’re going to be okay.”

After dabbing one of the capacitors with gel and giving them a quick rub, he gently placed the paddles around Sebastian’s helplessly quivering pump and dialled in 150J. The hum of the charging tone broke to signal the shock was ready, and James diligently defibrillated him once more.

Sebastian gasped again as his heart was shocked back into sinus rhythm, but he didn’t appear to be conscious as of yet. James continued to coo at him as he undid the restraints on his arms and replaced the nasal cannula with an oxygen mask, and when he was confident that Sebastian wouldn’t need it, he removed the port and covered the puncture wound accordingly.

When James was done getting his patient and submissive comfortable, he fetched a folding stool from his bedroom beyond and set it down at Sebastian’s side. There was nothing to do now but wait for him to wake up—and shower him with all the aftercare he’d surely need after such a racy scene.

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hartdoc · 4 months ago

Text

The Front

This was a commissioned work! If you want to commission me, please dm!

>>CONTENT NOTICE: male-on-male, D/s dynamic, dark cardiophilia, sexual cardiophilia, non-consent, resuscitation kink<<

It was dark and overcast when Miles rolled into the bus depot—threatening to rain, with the occasional spattering of mist on the window. The young man tried to stifle an ugly, wet-sounding cough as he threw his earbuds and now-dead laptop into his duffel bag.

This was his stop. He was only one of two passengers that appeared to be disembarking here, but that suited him fine. In his limited experience, sleepy towns tended to be either the most friendly or the most weird—after the last experience he had, he hoped these people would be the former.

WELCOME TO PORT LATHESIER, a worn, wooden sign tried its best to offer a warm welcome. A portrait of a horizon over the sea had once made the sign more appealing, but it was washed out and covered in bird shit now.

Miles frowned at it as he went inside the bus depot to use their wifi and charge his phone. It was profoundly dead inside—a sleepy stoner kid manned the ticket desk, and the remnants of a convenience store of some kind lurked in the other corner.

He crouched between the two washrooms and plugged his phone into the outlet there, unbothered by the building’s only other occupant. When he was comfortable against the wall, he let out another series of hacking coughs that left him a little breathless, and he groaned in embarrassment and frustration afterward.

I really should get this looked at, he thought as he brought up the local map to search for a clinic. He continued softly under his breath when it only brought up one result, which was over an hour away on foot. “Fuck.”

After a short but fruitless search, he stood up and awkwardly waved to the clerk. “Hey, uh… do you know where I could see a doctor in this town?”

“There’s a clinic across the street from the hospital,” he answered without looking up from his phone. “Everyone goes there.”

“Okay, thanks,” Miles pulled his wallet from his jeans. His lips shrunk into a tight line when he thumbed over a paltry thirty dollars in five dollar bills—a taxi was out of the question.

Fuck.

After lingering just long enough to charge a decent battery on his phone, he went into the bathroom to relieve himself and roll a joint or two. He brought up a broader google search of medical services in the area when he noticed the depot’s shitty wifi reached just outside the building’s front door, and he made a note of a yet-unmentioned walk-in clinic in a list of other services.

“That’s doable,” he mumbled under his breath between drags. Punching the address into the map revealed that the clinic was still there—and just a fifteen minute walk away, as opposed to over an hour. He took a screenshot of the directions and began walking north as advised—along the industrial outskirts of town.

Miles was anxious as he walked and toked and coughed. He’d had a rough go, escaping his father’s drunken rage, flitting about from town-to-town, looking for a new place in the world—and now he was broke, sick, and nearly out of weed, in this strange port that he’d never heard of before.

He noted the lack of traffic and how quiet it was in general as he continued along, and he was doubting that the clinic was even still around when he saw it—the only place of business in an otherwise defunct strip mall.

MEDICAL CENTRE, the sterile black-on-white sign read.

Miles chuffed at how generic it was and took a deep drag of the second joint, then butted out the rest beneath his shoe when he began to hack uncontrollably on exhale.

“Uuagh—god damn,” he wrinkled his nose at the dark green phlegm he spat onto the concrete. He tried to ground himself as he approached the doors—he didn’t particularly like going to the doctor, but not for the same reasons that most other people did.

There was an old bell that gave a chime as he entered, and the first thing he noticed was how empty it was. There were files in the cabinets and various boxes stacked about, but a lack of patients or staff.

“Hello?” a man’s voice called out from somewhere further inside.

“Uh… hi?” Miles nervously called back. “Is this still a walk-in clinic?”

The man appeared through a door that led to the backend of the clinic. Miles was taken aback by how handsome and youthful he looked—his tan complexion was marked by two bright, amber-hued eyes and effortlessly unkempt curly black hair, and what was very clearly a well-exercised body was concealed beneath well-fitting black slacks, a teal button-down shirt, and a white coat with a stethoscope curled up in one of its pockets.

“Yes, it is,” the attractive doctor replied after a beat. There was something just a bit sultry in the way he answered, and he seemed pleased when Miles looked relieved. “I’m Dr. Bennett, and this is my practice. We’re in a bit of a state of flux at the moment, so you’ll have to excuse the… lack of organization around here right now.”

“That’s okay,” Miles timidly cast his eyes downward and shuffled his duffel bag off of his shoulder—the pressure on his chest was starting to hurt, and he let out another bunch of rapid-fire coughs that barely allowed him time to catch his breath. “I just—I just need—something for this cough. I have my health number here…”

“Irene?!” Dr. Bennett called loudly through the door to the back. “Can you come take this patient’s health info for me?”

There was a beat, a shuffle of papers, and then a distant door clicked open. “Be right there!”

“My receptionist will punch in your information real quick,” Dr. Bennett explained as he scanned the worn provincial health card for a hometown and birthday. “You’re a long way from home, eh?”

“Yeah,” Miles sighed. “My dad’s—he’s kind of a piece of shit.”

“Ah,” Dr. Bennett leaned through the doorway to hand Irene the card. “Well, I’ll go get the exam room prepped, and then we’ll get that nasty-sounding cough checked out, alright? Have a seat.”

Miles flushed and nodded as the doctor disappeared behind the door again. He knew what the words implied—he was, at the very least, going to listen to his chest, and he found himself squirming with vulnerability in the dimly-lit frontend as he waited to be called to the examination room.

This is what he didn’t like about going to the doctor: the fact that he couldn’t actively, outwardly enjoy it as it was happening. He would play off any physiological reactions as anxiety, and health professionals tended not to question it—but it didn’t stop him from feeling nervous about it every time.

“Dr. Bennett is ready,” a much younger, much prettier attendant than Irene appeared in the doorway. “Come with me.”

Miles swallowed hard and stifled another coughing fit as he stood up, duffel bag in hand. The backend of the clinic was even more empty and off-putting than the front and the exterior—the wallpaper was frayed at its edges, most of the lights only barely worked, and the doors to other exam rooms were pointedly left closed and presumably locked. Miles easily dismissed how disheveled and liminal the clinic was in his altered state, and he believed what Dr. Bennett had said about it being in a state of flux.

Of course, he thought naïvely. They’re probably getting ready to renovate.

The room he was brought to was equally as strange, in just how nice it was in comparison to the rest of the building. The medical equipment looked brand new, the lights were bright, and the laptop that sat closed on the desk was so new, the clear protective film was still on the logo.

“He’ll be right in, okay? Sit tight.”

Miles had barely sat down in the chair next to the desk when Dr. Bennett entered again. He had changed out of his office attire, and was now adorned in deep teal scrubs that hugged the curves and angles of his muscular frame just so.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said pleasantly while he adjusted the exam table to sit at a forty-five degree angle. “Take off your shirt and hop up on the table, please.”

Miles cleared his throat nervously and did as asked, and he answered the doctor’s queries about the duration and severity of his symptoms as well as he could. He was distracted, watching his every move to know what would come next, and he was right—after washing his hands and snapping on a pair of white nitrile gloves, he took the black stethoscope from around his neck and put it in his ears.

“Sit up straight, open your mouth,” he placed the bell just above Miles’ right clavicle before he continued, “and take a deep breath.”

Miles felt his heart rate increase right away when he said the words, and he tried to fight off his excitement, but he couldn’t help but enjoy it as the stethoscope was tenderly placed just above his left clavicle.

“Again,” Dr. Bennett instructed softly as he stared down at the patient’s smooth, hairless chest. Miles wouldn’t know it right away—but the doctor was enjoying this in the same fashion that he was. He could hear his heart working harder than usual to combat what ailed him, and he could also hear loud, distinct crackling and bubbling sounds as he breathed in and out with each repositioning of the bell. “I’m surprised you waited this long before stopping to get it checked. I’m going to listen through your back now, alright?”

“Okay,” Miles mumbled and blushed again as he inched the stethoscope around his back. He began to cough near the end of the examination when asked to breathe deeply, and the doctor listened intently as he did.

“You’ve been traveling a lot, right?” Dr. Bennett asked when he was done.

“Yeah… for the past three months or so,” he replied shyly.

“Hm,” he nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like you have pneumonia. Do you mind if I take your vital signs?”

Yes, Miles privately thought. Dr. Bennett was almost too attractive—he found it harder than usual to stifle himself in his presence, but he held his tongue. “No—of course not.”

Dr. Bennett turned on a wheeled monitor near the table and clipped the pulse oximeter on his index finger, then proceeded to wrap a blood pressure cuff around his arm and set it to go off.

“Are you feeling short of breath or tight in the chest?” he asked as the blood oxygen number blinked to life and revealed a less-than-optimal level.

“Honestly… yeah, a little,” Miles admitted. It was more than a little, but he didn’t want to let on.

“I want to get Kim to draw some blood,” Dr. Bennett explained. “Then I’ll know what to give you, but for now, I’m going to give you some oxygen, okay? Lay back, and I’ll be right back.”

There’s something weird about all this, Miles thought distantly. He laid back as he had been told and watched the monitor next to him—his pulse hovered around a hundred beats per minute, and his oxygen level was in the low nineties. But… maybe I’m just fucking baked. And sick. And a bit delirious. I dunno.

Dr. Bennett returned promptly with a small tank of gas with a tube and an intimidating opaque black mask on the end of it. He set it in a holster on the floor near the head of the examination table, then set the table to lie flat.

“What’s—what’s wrong…?” Miles managed to say between strained breaths.

“Your blood pressure is a little low,” he replied promptly as he opened the valve on the tank. “And I just want to get your oxygen back up, okay? It’s dropped a little bit even in the short time I was gone.” Dr Bennett paused to gently place the mask over Miles’ mouth and nose. “Just breathe, and you’ll start to feel better right away.”

He was right, of course. There was an instant relief as he breathed in the slightly sweet but sterile-tasting gas—and then that relief kept escalating, until he was dissociating and intoxicated. Miles finally clued in that there was something very wrong with the situation he found himself in.

“Don’t worry…” Dr. Bennett held the mask in a firmer grip against his face when he tried to struggle. It was too late, however—he’d already inhaled too much of the nitrous oxide to put up much of a fight. “I’m going to take great care of you, alright?”

“Okaaayyy, doctor…”

Dr. Bennett raised his eyebrows in surprise. Miles was smiling beneath the mask as the anesthesia finally overtook him, and when his eyes trailed downward, he saw the beginnings of a peak in his jeans. His patients had definitely had some interesting things to say as they were put under, but none had ever reacted with such obvious arousal before, and he wondered if Miles was actually into this, too.

“Kim? You out there?” Dr. Bennett called out. He continued to hold the mask against his face to ensure he was truly unconscious before he proceeded.

“Right here,” the young woman adorned in neon pink scrubs called back cheerfully as she opened the door and pushed a gurney through.

“Thank you,” Dr. Bennett nodded when she locked it in position beside the table. He finally took the mask away and pressed into the patient’s carotid pulse briefly to ensure its strength. “Poor guy really does have pneumonia, though.”

Kim snorted playfully as they prepared to lift him onto the gurney. “Since when do you pity your victims?”

“When they’re pretty and stupid like this,” the disgraced doctor tutted. “Such a shame.”

Kim couldn’t help but giggle that time. “Isn’t that all of them?”

“Oh, stop it,” he shot her a grin. “Ready?”

The pair transferred the unconscious patient to the gurney, and he remained attached to the wheeled monitor that displayed his heart rate and oxygen level for the duration of his short transit. They wheeled him around a few corners and into a much, much larger procedure room that had been converted into something that would have resembled a surgical suite, in someone’s nightmares.

“Shall I leave you to it, then?” Kim asked after the patient had been moved to the operating table.

“Yes, thank you,” Dr. Bennett followed her to the door. “If I need you, I’ll page the front.”

He took a key from his scrub pocket and locked the double-sided deadbolt before he continued—he’d learned you could never be too careful in these situations. There’d been some close calls in the past.

“God, it really is such a fucking shame,” Dr. Bennett traced a finger along his barely-there treasure trail and up his chest. “Oh well.”

He pressed into Miles’ femoral pulse for a ten second measurement, and he was pleased with its continued strength as of yet. Then he took each of his wrists and fastened them in place on the armrests above his head with soft hospital restraints, and did the same with his ankles after he cut away and removed his jeans.

The monitor suddenly beeped at him that Miles’ oxygen level had dropped to eighty-nine percent, and he was reminded that he really did need to remedy that sooner rather than later if he were to prolong the fun as much as he could.

“Alright, here you go,” he muttered impatiently as he fastened a high-flow oxygen mask to his face. “Now, be good.”

He took his time in rigging him up just how he wanted him to be. He tenderly pressed in place the electrodes for a twelve lead ECG, then smoothed over the sternal pad of the defibrillator on his right pectoral before moving him onto his side so he could place the other behind his heart. He then switched the monitoring implements of the wheeled monitor he’d brought in to the more central one that currently traced his slightly-overworked heartbeat and slow, sedated respirations.

There was one last thing he needed to do before he allowed Miles to wake up again, but before he did, he took a moment to make sure his vital signs were relatively stable. His heart rate was still elevated, around 120 BPM, and his blood pressure was still a bit low at 105/76, but that suited him well enough. He so rarely got to play with a sick heart.

When the intravenous port on Miles’ forearm was taped securely in place and ready for use, he excitedly moved over to the defibrillator he was connected to and activated ‘sync’ mode so the R-wave of his heartbeat cycle was highlighted on the monitor. Then he dialed in the settings to pace him—at first a little slower than his current heart rate at 100 BPM, and he manually turned up the joules until the current captured Miles’ heart.

He watched the monitor for a few seconds as it successfully brought his pulse down, and then he turned his attention to the patient’s twitching chest. He was still unconscious as of yet, but he thought to change that. He increased the intensity of the pacing drastically—now, he would be shocked at 75J, at a rate of 150 BPM.

Miles’ heart began to struggle immediately, and he gasped for air even despite the mask as his consciousness returned to him. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, but he was too breathless to cry out.

“Your little pump doesn’t seem to like this very much,” Dr. Bennett uttered in a voice that was both threatening and a touch sweet at once.

Miles continued to gasp for air even as the shocks steadily ebbed off and then stopped. The oxygen in the mask helped, but now his chest was markedly sorer than before, and he was still dizzyingly intoxicated from the earlier dose of nitrous.

“But you like it, don’t you, Miles?”

The patient was taken aback by the on-the-nose taunt. He didn’t remember what had happened just before he lost consciousness. “I… what—?”

“Don’t be coy with me,” Dr. Bennett approached him with his stethoscope in his ears. “I saw how you reacted when I listened to your chest. You weren’t just nervous—you know how I know?”

Miles was speechless. He meekly shook his head no.

“Because I love hearts too,” Dr. Bennett declared with a sinister grin. “Well, that, and you got a little stiff as I put you under.”

“Uh—“ Miles moaned and writhed when the doctor delicately tapped his twitching dick while he listened to his heart. “What—what are you—going to do—with me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” He looked pleased as he finished his brief but thorough auscultation. “You may as well enjoy it.”

Dr. Bennett chuckled softly when Miles struggled weakly against his restraints. “You can put up a fight if you want to. It’s cute.”

Before he could realize what was happening, Dr. Bennett had eased a dose of propofol into the port on his arm, and he was even more helpless to resist his captor. He relaxed into its sedating, dissociative effects, unsure of what else to do but lay there and let this happen.

“There’s a good boy,” Dr. Bennett rumbled while he fiddled with the settings of the defibrillator. He smirked when Miles’ respiratory rate spiked with the sound of it charging to 200J, and he wanted to tease him about it, but he waited to see how he’d react first.

He pressed the discharge button silently and watched intensely as Miles’ chest jerked with the unsynchronized cardioversion. He grunted loudly and his heart stopped for a moment, but then it kept going—a bit slower than it had been before around 100 BPM.

“… Fuck,” Miles swore beneath the mask. The shock had hurt, a lot, to be sure—but was invigorating and undeniably arousing, even despite the circumstance.

“You have a thing for defibrillation, don’t you?” The doctor taunted him and slipped his gloved fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers to ease them down his thighs.

“I…” His voice died in his throat when he began to rub his dick.

“You don’t have to say it,” Dr. Bennett beamed at him. “All the evidence is right here—and there, too.”

Miles let his head roll to the side to look at the monitor when the doctor glanced at it to punctuate his point, but he found himself so sedated that he couldn’t bring his head upright again afterward.

“Ready?” Dr. Bennett adjusted the defibrillator to charge to 300J this time, but he didn’t stop jerking his patient off—the nitrile of his thick surgical gloves would insulate him. “Clear.”

“Huuh—“ Miles moaned and gasped. The intensity of three-hundred joules surging through his heart left him breathless, and it took him longer to recover than the first time. He felt his heart flipping around in his chest, and the monitor let out a few irregular beeps before it resumed tracing sinus rhythm.

“You really like that, huh?” He teased him again. “Would another one make you come?”

He didn’t know how to respond, or if he even could respond—his lips felt numb under anesthesia, and he let the doctor continue without a fight. It did feel good—so fucking good—but he feared getting out of here alive afterward.

“Shocking at three-sixty joules,” Dr. Bennett pointedly announced. “Clear!”

There was a soft, electronic click as the current passed between the two pads and rocked Miles’ body, and then the patient let out a soft gasp when he was helplessly brought to a climax. His heart had stopped, the doctor’s touch was just right, and all of this was just way too sexy—

“Perfect,” he purred when Miles slipped into full arrest on his table. “Absolutely perfect.”

He took his time feeling for both femoral pulses before he started the resuscitation effort, but there was nothing to palpate on either side. Satisfied, he leaned over the table, locked his elbows, and began to pump the arrested heart beneath his hands with measured fervour.

After roughly forty compressions, the monitor displayed a small, irregular wavy line that denoted fine ventricular fibrillation. Dr. Bennett smirked.

“That’s it—don’t give up just yet,” he uttered. It didn’t sound comforting, but it did sound sincere—he wanted to keep toying with him for the time being.

He firmly rubbed his knuckles along Miles’ reddened sternum, and then struck him hard with a closed fist. The arrhythmia stopped for a fraction of a second, then continued, so the doctor struck him again, harder this time.

Miles’ body jolted with the impact, and he began to cough into the mask that continued to supply him with oxygen as his heart restarted. His breathing came in short, strained gasps afterward.

“You awake?” Dr. Bennett teased a circle around his nipple as he spoke. “Miles?”

The patient’s eyelids fluttered before they opened completely, but his expression was hazy, like he wasn’t quite all there.

“You’re doing great,” he assured him as he took his stethoscope and inched it around on his chest in a quick examination of both his heart and lungs. “I’m going to give you something to dilate your air passages, okay?”

Miles was too sedated to really process what was happening. All he understood was that it was really hard to breathe right now, even despite the heavy flow of oxygen, and that his attendant was going to remedy that.

Dr. Bennett appeared over him again with a different mask and chamber attached. He eased the current one off his face and replaced it, then filled the chamber with a medicated aerosol.

“Take a deep breath—as deep as you can manage,” he instructed. Miles was just conscious enough to oblige, and while his respirations did sound markedly easier afterward, he loaded another dose into the chamber. “And one more time…”

The doctor set the mask aside and pressed the bell of his stethoscope onto his chest on either side. “Sounding much better. I’m still going to put you on oxygen again for the time being…”

Miles wasn’t sure why, exactly, but every time he explained what was about to happen, his intoxicated arousal only grew. He was surprised when Dr. Bennett secured a smaller mask that fit snugly over just his nose, and he absently wondered what purpose that served. He recognized the taste of oxygen by now and was further relieved when he breathed it in, but he had a permeating and intense sense of unease that he couldn’t shake.

Dr. Bennett took a few long moments to study the patient’s vital signs and let him stabilize further. His oxygen level was on the rise at 95%, the trace read sinus rhythm in the low-to-mid nineties, and his breathing was coming regularly.

He set the blood pressure cuff on his arm to go off again as he went off to a counter to prepare a different kind of inhalant. He took the bronchodilator off of the chamber’s applicator and replaced it with a different type of cartridge.

“You’re going to need to take this through your nose,” he explained matter-of-factly as he disconnected the hose to the oxygen supply and replaced it with the aerosol applicator. “Ready?”

Fuck it, Miles thought in a dreamy haze. He closed his mouth and inhaled as sharply as he could manage when Dr. Bennett let loose the amyl nitrate into the nasal mask.

“Hold it,” he commanded while gently placing his hand over his mouth. He looked up at the monitor when the helpless patient did as he was told, and his heart rapidly sped up while he continued to hold his breath. “Good.”

Miles’ heart let out a pair of premature ventricular contractions when he exhaled. He took a few deep, wheezy sounding breaths to steady his pounding head, and he only barely registered it when the doctor pushed into his neck pulse for a few seconds.

“You’re no stranger to this, are you?” Dr. Bennett cracked a wicked smile. He gripped the chamber attached to the mask with one hand, and covered Miles’ mouth with the other. “Let’s try again. Deep breath…”

He discharged a lot more into the mask this time around, and he took it off his face so he could plug his nose when the patient threatened to blow it out right away. “Hold it. Hold it—“

Dr. Bennett enjoyed how Miles struggled and hiccupped beneath his firm grip, and he looked up to the monitor when it began to beep at very quick and irregular intervals. It didn’t take long for his heart to give out after that—the alarm for ventricular tachycardia began to sound off, and the doctor was truly delighted to have something to shock.

He silently brought two-hundred joules to a charge, and defibrillated Miles as soon as it was ready. He spasmed sharply against his restraints, but then continued to lie still. His heart continued to quiver uselessly in his chest, and the doctor promptly adjusted to 300J and shocked him once more.

Dr. Bennett couldn’t help but bite his lip as the handsome patient jerked before him again. The trace went flat for a moment too long, and he propped his leg up beside him to thrust into his chest when the line blared flat once more.

“I really, really hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” he growled when thirty compressions passed without a response. He took a step to the side, reached for an ambu bag sitting nearby, then connected it to the oxygen supply before using it to ventilate him. “You’re so pretty when you’re coding.”

He watched intensely as his chest rose and fell with the squeezing of the bag valve, and then he resumed beating into his already-bruising sternum at a perfect and unwavering one-hundred beats per minute. His stomach ballooned dramatically with each deep push, and the doctor wondered if it was worth trying to give him some epinephrine as the second cycle came to an end.

“Don’t worry—I know what you need.”

After pushing the epinephrine through the port, he felt for a femoral pulse on either side of his abdomen. There wasn’t one, but as he was holding his fingers against him, the trace began to move—he was fibrillating again.

Dr. Bennett wasted no time. He charged the defibrillator to 360J, and he stared at his bruised, electrode-ridden chest as it contracted with the shock. The highly irregular rhythm ceased, but his heart didn’t restart.

“Come on—“ he rubbed his knuckles over his heart again. “Is that all you got?”

There was a loud smak when he slammed down on his sternum with a closed fist. The monotone asystole alarm broke for a fraction of a second, then stubbornly continued on.

Dr. Bennett urgently moved away to a dark corner of the room and returned with a LUCAS thumper. He expertly undid the restraints on Miles’ arms so he could properly strap them onto the CPR device, and then he let it do its thing in his stead while he prepared to intubate. The monitor began to beep out each compression of the LUCAS, and Dr. Bennett swiftly returned with an appropriate laryngoscope and eased it down his throat.

“I guess I’ll put you on the ventilator…” Dr. Bennett said sardonically, “since you’re not really putting up much of a fight yourself.”

After setting the ventilator to deliver oxygen as needed to Miles’ battered body, he simply stood at his side and enjoyed how the machines sustained him. He then took his stethoscope and placed it just so on the left side of his torso—there was something so intensely sexy about the sound his heart made as it was forcefully crushed.

“Alright,” the doctor whined yieldingly, as though the patient could hear him. “One more round of epi for you—but that’s it…”

He drew up another millilitre and took his time doing it. It didn’t really matter at this point if he reacted to it or not—he was just toying with him for his own pleasure now, not necessarily to bring him back.

There was an agonal rhythm on the trace just as the dose was administered, and then another soon followed. With the continued compressions from the CPR device, another shockable rhythm soon appeared.

“Not quite done yet?” Dr. Bennett questioned while he charged the defibrillator to 360J. “Prove it.”

Miles’ body jerked beneath the LUCAS, and he continued to lie limp and lifeless afterward. The trace displayed the same ventricular fibrillation as before, and the doctor immediately primed another shock.

He inhaled sharply when the shock rippled through Miles’ body, and he hoped it might restore sinus rhythm, if only to continue the fun—but the monitor warned of asystole once more.

Dr. Bennett tutted disappointedly. He debated whether to continue the resuscitation effort, and he quickly decided that if he didn’t respond to one more round of manual CPR, he would call it.

He was tender as he removed Miles’ wrists from their fastenings, and he didn’t bother restraining him again after he’d lifted the CPR device off of him. He felt for a femoral pulse, didn’t find one, and locked his hands in place over the patient’s broken chest.

He allowed himself to truly revel in what he expected to be the last round of compressions—how his head bobbed with each thrust, the gentle hiss of the ventilator breathing for him—an expression of sheer, euphoric peace spread across Dr. Bennett’s face as he fully took in the scene.

He looked satisfied and pleased; dopey and giddy all at once when the last CPR cycle came to an end. Disconnecting the victim and disposing of them properly was also something the twisted doctor took delight in, and he caressed Miles’ body while he removed the various electrodes and cannula connected to him.

“It really is such a shame,” he mused at Miles’ pale, lifeless body; made even more washed out by the bright white light above him. “But you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Just as much as I did.”

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