“Where are they?” he asks.
“In a little plastic container in the bathroom,” I say. “Do you even know how they go back in?”
“Yes,” he laughs.
“Then you know I’m liable to accidentally get off again.”
“Yes, but we should definitely prevent that for a few days. You’ll be pretty uncomfortable if you do,” he says.
“I’m pretty sure having an orgasm during a pelvic exam is the definition of uncomfortable,” I laugh.
“For who?”
“Not you, apparently,” I shrug.
“Do you want me to help, or do you want to wait? You’re not doing it by yourself right now.”
“I could do it alone,” I frown.
“Okay. Sit down without making anything hurt,” he says, and I laugh. “That's what I thought.”
Dominic sits me down before going to get the jewelry from the bathroom. When he gets back he helps me lay down and I groan as I settle into the mattress. He helps me get my underwear off before I pull a pillow over my face.
He gets the princess-piercing one in without issue but when he gets to the VCH it feels both amazing and excruciating.
“Ow fuck, that hurts,” I whine.
“I need you to be more specific,” he laughs.
“It makes my insides feel like I’m being stabbed,” I explain. “Fuck, but it also feels good. You need to hurry because I’m either going to cry or come and I don’t wanna do either.”
“There,” he laughs and helps me put my underwear back on before taking the pillow from me. “Can I get you anything?”
“A gun,” I say and he narrows his eyes at me. “Ya know. To shoot myself with.”
“Yeah. I got it before you said it,” he smirks. “Anything that doesn’t involve suicide?”
“Uhh… no.” I smile brightly at home.
“I see the pain meds are working,” he says.
“You look tired,” I say.
“I am, but I’ll hang out until you go to sleep,” he says.
“You can sit, ya know.”
“If I sit, I’ll probably pass out,” he says. “Your surgery was longer than I expected.”
“Dominic, you’ve touched my vagina more times in the last two weeks than I think anyone else ever has. You can stay here because we both know you’ll just worry if you don’t watch over me,” I say.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks.
“I do,” I admit. “I like being close to you.”
“Okay,” he smiles. He moves to sit, and I frown at him.
“You better not be about to try and sleep with jeans on. That’s weird,” I say and he smirks.