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This really isn’t what the Corinthian expected when he’d begged Dream for a second chance.
He’d figured a demotion was in order. There’d be some grunt work, for sure. Maybe covering a few shifts for sleep paralysis demons or handling janitorial duty on the nightmare shores. He expected a few centuries scrapping fever dreams off the rock basins, giving directions to dumbass night terrors, maybe fishing out stranded dreamers swimming too far out in the sea.
Maybe he wasn’t giving his lordship enough credit. Because this. This is some goddamn excellent hazing. Whatever fraternity president he plucked his inspiration from deserves a sloppy blowjob and a round of applause. If the Corinthian ever meets the fucker, he’ll give ‘im both, and then rip out his fucking eyeballs in short order.
(No. Bad thought. He’s trying to be good this go-around.)
The Good Doctor is moving behind him. Her heels click on the sheet vinyl, and there’s the distinctive sound of surgical gloves being snapped on, a nightmare classic. Usually he’s not on this side of the operating table. And he’s never had the indignity of wearing hospital-issued gray pajamas and socks.
He tests the five-point restraints again and finds them as solid as they were the last dozen times. Normally he’d be able to rip through the leather like goddamn Kleenex, but he can’t fucking budge. He knocks his head back against the headrest and gnashes all three sets of teeth together, furious. Even dogs can still bite after they’ve been neutered. Guess he knows where he fits on the totem pole now.
The Good Doctor clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “If you’re poorly-behaved, I’ll have to administer a sedative.”
The dream sharpens into focus as she swings into view, wheeling over a stainless steel instrument tray. The shadowy walls resolve into that classic concrete painted over with Correctional Facility Beige.
The Good Doctor smiles sweetly. Her hair’s gotten longer in the clink. She's got it tied back from her face in a neat ponytail. For a second she’s in the demure little skirt and blazer combo she was wearing at the convention before it shifts into a khaki prison jumpsuit.
“Long time no see, Corinthian.” She pauses to fuss with what looks like a syringe on the tray, tapping out an air bubble. “Seems like we’ve both had some career changes since last we saw each other.”
“Wow. Tell me they didn’t make you trustee. Thought doctors were supposed to get stripped of their medical licenses when they, you know, got convicted of serial murder.”
“I can’t legally practice,” she agrees. “But you know how short-staffed most prisons are.” She glances around knowingly. “They’d never leave me alone with a patient. But your boss–”
The Corinthian snarls and bucks against the restraints. The Good Doctor shoves him back down with a firm hand to the forehead. It’s fucking insulting how easily she does it.
“He warned me you’d be testy.” She sounds a little breathless. “Easy, Corinthian. This can always get worse for you.”
The Corinthian forces himself to relax and offers her a lazy smile. “How can I be a good boy for ya, doc?”
The Good Doctor blinks with surprise and then laughs. She’s probably not used to her prey playing along. Her hazel eyes crinkle with delight, and for a warm moment he remembers why he’d liked her so much.
“You have some rather unusual anatomy, Corinthian.” She brushes a gloved finger under his right eye, startlingly gentle. “I hate to do this to a friend, but I feel professionally obligated to conduct an examination.”
His amusement curdles all at once. Her scalpels he could take in stride, but Dream’s the only one who gets to inspect him, study him. He’s Dream’s handiwork, not the Good Doctor’s. The dreamscape wrapped around him doesn’t seem to realize that. It hardens with a cold purpose; an inflexible narrative certainty.
She tugs lightly on his lower eyelid. “Are you going to bite me, Corinthian?”
“No,” he lies.
She smiles at him so fondly that for a second he thinks he wouldn’t mind so much, being her thing.
“Hold still.”
She’s quick about it, but he still hisses and tries to jerk away when the needle stabs into his neck. She grabs his chin securely as she depresses the plunger, and he starts to feel the sedative kicking in as soon as she glides the syringe free. She places it primly back on the tray.
He rolls his head back limply, all three mouths going slack.
“Biiitch.”
She surprises him by planting a brisk, closed-mouth kiss on his forehead before putting on her serious face. She picks up a small flashlight from the tray and the Corinthian whimpers softly as the too-bright light hits his left eye. He can’t remember ever being bothered by this sort of shit before; Dream really does have a nasty sense of humor when it suits him.
He gags as she hooks a finger under the bottom of his left eye. It hisses in an impotent threat, salivating as it weakly tries to bite down. She tsks and levers another finger inside, pushing up against the hard palate as well to hold his eye open.
She gets in close and peers into his eye. Nobody’s ever done this to him but Dream, but this is the story that's being told. He should rightfully feel humiliated, but just like it goes with his lord, the Corinthian’s chest clenches when she frowns thoughtfully.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs, more to herself. He almost sighs with relief. “Exquisite internal structure. Looks like there’s even a functioning uvula.” She turns off the flashlight and sets it down on the tray, freeing up her other hand to pinch his tongue.
She makes a sympathetic noise as she methodically rolls his tongue between her fingers. “You’re okay, honey.” She lays one finger flat across his tongue. “Can you try to push against the roof of your mouth for me?”
He’s obeying before he remembers he shouldn’t have to. The dream thrums warmly as she hums with approval.
“Excellent strength.” The Good Doctor skims the bottom of her finger along the serrated edges of his incisors. She gasps excitedly when her nitrile glove splits open. “So sharp!”
His right eye, probably feeling left out, the praise-whore, whines demandingly. The Good Doctor chuckles as she releases her fingers from his left eye.
“Don’t worry,” she assures it. “I’ll get to you next.”
She plucks off her damaged glove and replaces it with a new one, and the Corinthian’s right eye gapes open with a ready eagerness that sends a chill of horror down his spine.
“Stop,” he tries, mostly to see if he can. He hadn’t always been able to with Dream. His right eye hisses at him, annoyed, and lolls out its tongue invitingly. The Good Doctor smiles down at it like it’s the most charming thing she’s ever seen, and this time, when he tries to tell her to fuck off, the words catch in his throat.
His right eye drools around her finger as she rubs up and down the hard palate. The sensation starts as a tickle and then turns into a choking pressure as she drives further back. It should properly be violating, but it isn’t, because an owner can’t violate her own things, and that’s what they are to each other in this story.
She massages the soft palate, driving out a wet little gurgle from his right eye right before it flicks her finger playfully with its tongue.
“Reactive little thing, aren’t you?” It’s not a criticism, not like it would’ve been from Dream, and the Corinthian stifles a whimper.
She pushes in a second finger. She gives his eye a moment to acclimatize and then she’s thrusting her fingers in and out. It’s professional and precise; with every pass, she rubs up against the sensitive zone of his soft palate like she’s hitting his goddamn g-spot.
He arches on the table. His toes curl in his thick socks. His eye has started making breathy, encouraging noises, and the Good Doctor giggles; neither of them are hiding the fact that this has just turned into a finger-blasting session.
“I hate you,” he snarls with his real mouth, the only part of his fucking body still listening to him. “I’ll fuckin’ rip you apart, I’ll–”
The Good Doctor makes his right eye squeal with pleasure as she does something horribly clever with her middle finger. “Then why haven’t you?”
The Corinthian gags himself on her fingers as he raises his head to look down at his body. He stares in disbelief. The restraints are gone.
The Good Doctor adjusts so she’s cupping the back of his head as she continues to finger-fuck his eye. He can’t feel the sedative at all anymore, either. He could bite down and snap her fingers right off at the knuckles. He could tear himself away and rip out her lungs, pin her to the concrete and show her what it’s like to get fucked against her will.
She slows down to lavish his tongue with a particularly gentle stroke, and moaning, he collapses back on the table. Maybe that surrender’s what she’d been looking for the whole time, ’cause she immediately withdraws her fingers from his right eye.
“Come back, come back,” it chatters hoarsely. “Aren’t I good?”
“The best,” she says. She dabs saliva off his cheek with a bit of cotton. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have plenty more dreams together.”
There’s no sense of relief, knowing that this dream’s about to be over. The Corinthian doesn’t know what to do with the quiet shudder of disappointment he gets instead, but he doesn’t have to.
There’s a silvery flash as the Good Doctor retrieves a pair of medical scissors from the tray. Clean and efficient, she snips through his cotton shirt and sweatpants and then the white briefs he’d apparently been wearing underneath.
Without needing to be asked, he scoots forward and slips his feet into the stirrups that’ve materialized at the end of the now-gynecological table. Whatever sort of nightmare he used to be, he knows what he is now. What role he embodies.
The Good Doctor snaps on a fresh pair of gloves and squirts a dollop of lubricating jelly onto her fingers. She sits down on a small stool between his legs and runs a slick finger around his asshole.
All three of his mouths moan as she presses a kiss to his inner thigh and grins like the monster she is, the one that was always his favorite. He grins back at her. If he’s going to be prey, he’s happy it’s her jaws he’s found himself in, at least.
“For now… we have another orifice to explore, don’t we?”