tagInterracial LoveDoctor Does Diesel Ch. 13

Doctor Does Diesel Ch. 13


He'd seen things that haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He'd killed men. He'd nearly been killed. He'd spent nights lying awake trying to hold onto the last shreds of his humanity on the days where all he had was hate in his heart for his enemies. He'd contemplated suicide while reflecting on the things he'd done, and dismissed the idea when he learned to become drunk on his power, on his ruthlessness, on his immaculate aim. He thought he'd seen it all. He'd even ventured to think there was nothing that he would ever see again that would ever be enough to shake him. He'd been mistaken.

The moment he heard the gunshot he kicked the door down. It slid across the floor and slammed into a wall. He stepped through the threshold and a bullet whizzed past him and ricocheted off a lamp, found it's final resting place in the forehead of a man that it took Diesel a split second to realize was none other than Peter. Diesel dropped to the floor, his heart beat barely increasing. He rolled behind a couch and slid his blade from his boot.

"Pete!" The man with the gun wailed. Diesel waited, readied the blade in his hand.

"Oh God, Peter! Look what you made me do!" the man yelled. Diesel waited a beat and then stood up to take in the room. His heart stopped and bile rose in his throat when he caught sight of Madison slumped against a wall on the other side of the room, a red circle spreading on the fabric of her well pressed white blouse. His mind went wild for a moment; he heard the sounds of falling shells, almost slipped back entirely into memories of the violent times he'd endured as images of carnage and suffering flashed before his eyes, and with effort borne of Madison's need for him he came back to himself.

"Yo, drop the weapon!" he yelled, his voice even and stern.

"Fuck you," the man said. He stood and aimed his gun, but his hand jerked in surprise when Diesel threw the blade. It whizzed through the air and hit the man in his shoulder. The gun fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Diesel stood over him, stepped on his chest and pulled the blade out of his shoulder bone eliciting a scream of agony. He took his cell phone from his pocket and called 911 for the second time. He'd beaten the police here as it was and he had no time to waste, Madison hadn't moved once since he'd entered the house.

"Yes, I need an ambulance, now!" he said to the dispatcher when she answered. He relayed the address ended the call and returned his attention to the man beneath his boot. He was crying hysterically and wasn't even attempting to get up.

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do to Madison!" Diesel yelled. The man replied with renewed sobs, wails almost. "Start talking or I'll slit your throat!" Diesel said.

"I'm Carlos, I---I am a friend of Peter's. I was seeing Madison as my therapist and then I learned that she was getting back with Peter. I couldn't take it. I'm sorry, I just went crazy, I couldn't take it! And now look! My love is dead! I killed him."

"You did, and it's no one's fault but your own," Diesel said caustically. "I'll tell you what, if your unstable ass managed to kill my girl as well, you'll wish for jail," he said. With thoughts of murdering the man right where he lay running through his mind, he forwent the lure of revenge by reminding himself of what Madison was helping him realize he possessed; the decency of a man who only murdered because he had to, to kill enemies. Not for pleasure. With one swift punch to the temple, Diesel simply knocked Carlos out cold. He walked toward Madison but stopped in his tracks. He didn't want to know. She wasn't moving and he was afraid to check her pulse, afraid to find it non-existent. He said a silent prayer, slid his knife back into his boot.

The first thing he did was touch her cheek. It was burning hot. He smoothed a few tendrils of hair out of her face and took a few deep breaths before he drummed up the nerve to check her pulse. Faint, but there. He breathed a sigh of relief that brought on a wave of sobs as he got on his knees and stared at her, afraid to touch her and make things worse. He waited, unsure of his next move. He was saved from the torture of contemplation of her state when she opened her eyes ever so slightly.

"Madison, oh God Madison baby! That's good, you're going to be okay. You're alive!"

"I'm alive for now," she said in a pained gasp. "But it hurts," she said.

"I know baby. The ambulance is on the way." He watched her eyes gain focus and roam around the room.

"Peter!" She exclaimed when she caught sight of him lying across the room, a trail of blood running from the hole in his forehead. "Did you--"

"No, I didn't kill him. Carlos or whoever he is, he did it on accident. He shot at me when I came in and the bullet ricocheted. Fuck that though, Madison, tell me, how did you get here?"

"Peter called me to come, he sounded hysterical. He's done me wrong in my life but---but I still care for him, Diesel. It hurt me to hear him in so much anguish. I came over to talk to him, try to make him feel better and then Carlos came bursting in."

"You should have told me you were coming here, I could've persuaded you to use your head."

"Diesel, I'm sorry, I never thought it would come to this."

"I know Maddy. Don't apologize. I'm just pissed that I couldn't prevent this. You're my heart, Madison. If you died what would I do? I'd be lost without you." She looked away from him, winced again.

"Diesel, I'm not trying to be negative but I don't think I'm out of the woods yet. It hurts to breathe, it's hard to breathe, for that matter. I don't know what the bullet's done but it's still in me and my fingers and hands are so cold."

Diesel ripped off his jacket, placed it over her. "Does that help at all?"

"A little," she smiled weakly and gazed into his eyes. "I don't feel so well, Diesel. Not at all."

"Madison, you be strong, don't die on me. Not now. We just got started."

"Diesel, don't worry about me. You're an amazing man. The only person I've ever met that has made me feel so sexy and capable. I love you so much. You need to know that anything I've done, I did it because I love you and I wanted only to protect you."


"Let me finish. My life began the day you I met you in that cafeteria and for that I can die here knowing that I was happy and normal in the end," she said. A single tear from her eye and her breathing became labored. Diesel couldn't help but to touch her, he needed to feel her warmth one more time. The color was draining from her face and her eyes were taking on a farway look. He felt a piece of himself sliding away as he watched her give up.

"Madison," his hands on her face, his lips on hers. His tears came freely and wet both of their cheeks. Sirens faded in, finally, and got closer every second. Diesel parted her lips with his tongue, said her name. "You die on me Madison and you'll never know." The press of her lips against his intensified and he started to think that maybe she was coming around, maybe she wasn't dieing.

"What won't I know?" She asked. Her words were followed by a rasp that rang akin to the death rattles he'd heard on the lips of dieing comrades in Iraq. Someone pounded on the door. He couldn't find her pulse. He tried again and again, put his lips on hers, placed a finger under her nose and felt nothing. She was dead.

"It's the police, open up!" Diesel laid Madison down, closed her eyes. He opened the door.


Every moment ticked by with the drag of an hour as he watched the paramedics descend upon her and remove their equipment from their bags. He didn't mind reliving the touch of her lips against his as he watched one paramedic part her eyelids to reveal her stationary whites. The man then tore open her shirt and applied the defibrillator and the other paramedic tended to her wound between each zap of the defibrillator which made her body jerk dummy-like. Diesel felt himself dissociate from the image of her lying on the floor while the two frantic men tried to spark the life back into her body.

They'd spent as much time together as they could in the span of their month-long courtship. On days that he didn't plan to see her, he always found himself at her condo knocking on her door. One such day he'd come by her place unannounced and she'd answered the door with a smile on her face.

"Didn't expect you today, thought you'd be hanging with Archie!"

"I did hang with Archie, and now I want to hang with you," he'd said stepping through the threshold. Diesel recalled every moment they'd shared, and he tried to recall the smell of her that day along with the way she'd looked in her Terry cloth robe.

They'd sat on the couch and she'd turned the television to a bad action movie that he'd seen a million times.

"This movie is horrible but I love it," she'd said draping her legs over his lap. It was on a cable channel and during the commercials they'd talk about anything and everything. She told him she wanted to travel, and he'd told her all the places he'd been. She slid herself onto his lap as the credits rolled in front of a scene of an explosion that the hero and his woman had narrowly escaped at the film's sappy culmination.

"That movie is super cheesy!" She'd said with a smile. "But I still enjoyed it. Maybe it's because I was with you that I enjoyed it so much." She'd leaned in for a kiss and he'd burrowed his hands beneath her robe and ran his hands up and down her back.

"You think we would do well together, like if we actually were together without the military and this report to Sergeant Ford hanging over our heads?"

"Of course," he'd said without hesitation.

"How do you know? Of course our sex life is amazing..."

"It is..."

"But you and I both know there's more to life than sex."

"I know you're worried that we've fucked our way into catching feelings. But you have to trust that there's more than that between us. Maybe I can't put it into words completely, and maybe I can't say that we know one another's deepest darkest secrets. People who do know all that shit, everything about one another, what color the other one likes," she laid against him and whispered in his ear that her favorite color was taupe, "Taupe? Well if I knew what color that was I'm sure I'd think it was beautiful." She'd laughed. "Like I was saying though, people that know every detail about one another--that doesn't always mean they'll walk happily into the sunset. We don't know everything about one another, we couldn't even begin to know--but I know we love eachother. I know we were made for one another. I feel it. Besides, you're a psychiatrist. Your bread and butter is reading people. Don't you know that I'm the one for you? Haven't you read that by now?"

"I suppose I have, I'm just scared I guess," she'd said as he traced a nipple with his index finger. She'd placed a hand on his hardening length.

"See, whenever we try to have a serious conversation, what happens?"

"You get hard," she said into his ear. She'd whipped her robe off, arched her back so that her breasts were presented prominently in front of his face.

"I want to eat you for dinner," he'd said under his breath.

"You're a cannibal?"

"Yes, when it comes to Madison," he'd said. He seemed to lose all clear thought when he was with her, when he could feel her warmth. He palmed her breasts, kneaded them in his hands. "We'll have a good time together, I know it. I'm fucked up and you are, too! Your crazy is just hiding beneath the surface."

"I'm not fucked up!" She'd said.

"Well you're about to be," he'd said.

"That doesn't make sense!" she'd laughed. She leaned away from him so that she could access his fly. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled his hard, pulsing cock free. She climbed from his lap and got on her knees, took him into her mouth. He ran a hand through her hair as she sucked him, he said her name as he watched her breasts bob with her movements.

"I love your cock," she'd said, a small smile on her lips. "I dream about it sometimes."

"Obsessed much?" he asked with a smirk, his breathing still coming hard.

"Obsessed a lot," she'd said. He'd let out a moan for a reason he was never quite sure of, perhaps it was due to the thought of having this woman in his life, on her knees before him, her thoughts geared only toward pleasing him. He stood, picked her up and kissed her. He took his time tasting her lips, her tongue. He laid her on the couch, tunneled a finger inside of her hot wetness, and he shuddered as he felt her pulsing around his digit.

"I love you Madison. In our case, that'll be enough."

"Will it?" she'd asked, the words a breath on her lips. He'd been stroking her slowly at first with his pointer finger, and as she became wetter he wanted to taste her, drink her. He cocked her legs up and buried his face in her wetness, stuck his tongue inside of her as far as it could go, held her still as she tried to escape him. He took her clit between his lips, caressed it with his breath, reached up to cup her breasts. She grabbed his hand and put his middle finger in her mouth. He moaned at the suggestion and when she came he stood. Without a word she dropped to her knees again and lapped at his cock until he came. She swallowed every drop.

"Get in the bedroom," he'd said in a voice tinged with passion, with need. She laid down and spread her legs, put her hands on the headboard in preparation.

"You sure you want this?" he'd asked, a smirk on his lips. Of course she did. She always did. She grabbed his cock and ran it up and down her slit, rubbed it against her hardened clit in a circular motion that drove him nearly as mad as it did her. She shoved him inside of her without warning, she breathed his name when he slid himself in to the hilt.

The sex had been amazing that day, as it usually was. As he'd stroked in and out of her sopping wet pussy, as they'd sweat and kissed like ravenous animals, as they'd moved in rhythm and breathed in sync, beneath the feeling of pleasure coursing through him he'd thought only of how much he wanted to marry her. It wasn't because of the sex, it was because the sex blew his mind, her mind blew his mind, her beauty invaded his mind, and her smell intoxicated him.

Not soon after that afternoon; an afternoon spent against one another, an afternoon that ended with them passed out entwined with his cock soft inside of her, he'd asked her to marry him.

He came back to reality and to the image before him. "She's alive," a paramedic called out to him over his shoulder. "We got to get her to the hospital, but she should be fine. I've got her stabilized," the man said.

Diesel nearly collapsed with relief. He wasn't able to ride with her to the hospital because he had to speak with the police, and all the while his mind was more blank than it had ever been as he explained what had happened. All he could do was thank God that she was alive. Another chance, he'd been given another chance. He didn't want to leave her side, and if he could help it, he never would.

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