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The sterile scent of antiseptic was quickly overpowered by the warm, intimate fragrance of her skin as his hands, cool and sure from their recent scrubbing, began their slow exploration. His fingers traced the delicate architecture of her collarbone, a deliberate, unhurried cartography that sent anticipatory shivers cascading down her spine. Each deliberate touch was a silent promise, a professional assessment transforming into a deeply personal caress beneath the dimmed clinical lights. She felt the firm pressure of his palm flatten agat the small of her back, arching her body into a perfect curve that fit seamlessly agat the solid strength of his own. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped her lips as his thumb found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, its rhythm a stark contrast to his own measured calm. The starched white fabric of his coat whispered agat her bare arm, a tantalizing friction that spoke of authority and surrender in the same breath. He leaned in, his breath a warm, moist counterpoint to the room’s cool air, ghosting over her parted lips before his mouth finally claimed hers in a deep, searching kiss. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the taste of him, the feel of his skilled hands mapping her body, and the shared, unspoken understanding that this was a necessary, prescribed treatment. Every rational thought dissolved under the expert ministrations, leaving only a raw, thrumming awareness of sensation and the profound relief of following his every command.
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