Summary: when Luca is struggling with the boredom of recovery after his hip injury, you decide to take care of him.
Warnings: smut, 18+, no minors! 🔞
Luca had never been good at sitting still. The house felt too quiet now—days blurred together, measured by physical therapy stretches and the occasional football game playing low on the TV. His hip ached less now, but the real pain came from the restlessness. Not being able to work? Torture. Not being able to touch you the way he wanted? Agony.
He didn’t mean to pout, but you caught him doing it every day. Lounging on the couch in those grey sweats, hair slightly messy, beard a little scruffier than usual. You knew that look. A mix of boredom and desire.
You’d been waiting for the right moment—and tonight, it had finally arrived.
“Luca,” you called from the bedroom, voice dipped in honey. “Time for your check-up.”
He barely had time to react before you stepped into the living room, lips tugged into a sly smile, wearing the shortest white nurse dress he’d ever seen. Stockings hugged your thighs, the soft fabric stretching just enough when you moved. The little red cross stitched above your chest should’ve looked innocent—but it didn’t. Not on you.
Luca blinked, his mouth parting. “What… are you doing?”
“Taking care of my patient,” you said, sauntering toward him. “You’ve been so tense lately. Thought I’d help ease the stress.”
He opened his mouth to object—maybe something about the doctor’s orders—but you were already straddling his lap, carefully settling above his recovering hip with a slow grind that made his breath hitch.
“Easy,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his jaw. “You just sit back. I’ll do all the work.”
His hands gripped the couch, knuckles white. He didn’t dare move—not yet. You rocked your hips, slowly, teasingly, as you kissed down the side of his neck. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the taut muscles twitching under your touch.
“God, Y/N…” he muttered, voice low and desperate.
You looked him in the eyes, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Think of this as… physical therapy. Just the fun kind.”
His breath hitched as you leaned in, lips brushing against his ear, your voice low and commanding.
“Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
That tone—firm, sweet, laced with promise—sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes darkened, jaw tense. You could feel the effort it took for him to stay still beneath you, even as you slowly ground your hips in a lazy rhythm, deliberately dragging out every second.
You tugged at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up over his chest. His abs tensed instinctively as your fingers traced lazy circles over his skin, your nails light enough to tease.
“You’ve been good,” you murmured, leaning down to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his collarbone. “But I think you’ve been waiting long enough.”
Luca’s hand twitched against the couch cushion. You caught it.
“No touching,” you warned, your voice silk and steel. “Not yet.”
He groaned softly, biting his lip as your hips rolled again, perfectly aligned to make him feel every shift of your body. The nurse costume had ridden up high on your thighs, revealing the thin lace of your panties—black, just for contrast—and you knew exactly how much he could see from where he sat.
You leaned back just slightly, giving him the view. His eyes dropped to your chest, the way the buttons strained with every breath you took.
“This isn’t fair,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.
You grinned, hooking your fingers under the edge of your panties and slowly dragging them down, making a show of it as they slipped past your thighs. “Fair? I’m helping you recover.”
“And torturing me in the process.”
You arched an eyebrow, straddling him again, this time with nothing between you. You rocked against him once—slow, deep, enough to make his head drop back with a moan.
“Think of it as motivation,” you whispered. “The better you behave, the more I give you.”
His head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, breath coming heavier now as you moved your hips again—slower this time, just enough pressure to tease but not satisfy.
You could feel how badly he wanted to move. His hands twitched again, fingertips curling into the cushions. Every muscle in his body was tight, on edge. He was unraveling under you, and you hadn’t even touched him properly yet.
Your voice dropped to a whisper as you leaned in close, lips brushing against the stubble along his jaw. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”
Luca groaned, his voice strained. “So bad, baby.”
You trailed a single finger down his chest, past his stomach, stopping just above the waistband of his sweats. “Then ask nicely.”
He let out a shaky breath, pride slipping just a little beneath the weight of desire. “Please, Y/N… let me touch you.”
You smiled, letting your finger slip under the waistband. “One hand.”
He didn’t hesitate. His right hand slid to your thigh, fingers firm as they traveled upward, finding the curve of your ass, pulling you just a little closer. His eyes locked on yours, hungry, needing.
You let out a soft sound as you rolled your hips again, this time pressing directly against the hard length beneath his sweats. The friction sparked between you—hot, electric.
“God, you feel good,” he rasped, his hand tightening on you. “You’re killing me.”
You leaned forward, lips grazing his, not quite kissing yet. “Not yet,” you murmured. “You don’t get everything at once.”
Then, finally, you reached down between you and slid your hand beneath his waistband. The first touch was slow—fingers wrapping around him, heat meeting heat—and Luca swore under his breath, hips jerking instinctively.
“Easy,” you whispered, giving him a teasing stroke. “I’m in charge, remember?”
His hand gripped your thigh harder, but he didn’t fight it. He let you control the pace—your palm moving with maddening rhythm, just enough to make him tremble. The tension between you burned hotter, every moment thick with want.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned.
You finally kissed him—deep, slow, possessive.
“Not death,” you said against his lips. “Just a very, very good recovery.”
Your hips rolled in slow, deliberate waves, taking him in over and over, every motion smooth and controlled. You weren’t in a rush. You wanted him to feel every second—every squeeze of your body around his, every flicker of pleasure building between you like a fire catching fast.
Luca’s hands gripped your thighs now, tighter than before, but still letting you lead. His restraint was breaking—you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the sweat at his temple, the way he bit back every desperate sound like it might hold him together.
But you could feel him trembling beneath you. On the edge.
“You’re doing so good,” you whispered, voice thick with heat, “but you’re close, aren’t you?”
He nodded, eyes half-lidded, chest rising fast. “So close… fuck, Y/N…”
You leaned forward, your lips brushing his as your pace deepened, rhythm growing just a little faster, more intense.
“You don’t come,” you said, your voice a low command against his mouth, “until I tell you.”
He groaned—almost a whimper—his fingers digging into your skin. The way he held on, how he gave you that control, it turned you on even more. You were burning now, tight and aching, every grind sending sparks straight through you.
You shifted just slightly—adjusting the angle, letting your clit drag against his skin perfectly with each stroke—and your breath hitched.
Luca’s head dropped back, a low, broken sound escaping his lips. “Y/N—please…”
You were both close now. You could feel your orgasm coiling, sharp and hot, just under the surface. You reached down, slipping your fingers between you, circling your clit in time with your rhythm.
You clenched around him as the first wave hit—your body tensing, your moan spilling out loud and uncontrollable. You moved through it, grinding down harder as you rode it out, trembling, eyes fluttering shut.
“Now,” you gasped, voice wrecked. “Now, baby. Let go.”
Luca surged up into you, one last desperate thrust as he spilled into you, his moan rough and raw and perfect. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as he buried his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky.
You stayed there for a while—panting, pressed together, the world falling away as you both came down.
When the silence settled, warm and heavy, Luca finally looked up at you, lips curving into the laziest, most satisfied smile you’d ever seen.
“You’re the best nurse I’ve ever had.”
You laughed, breathless. “Recovery’s going to take a while. Better get used to the care.”
You curled into him, your legs still tangled around his, chest pressed to his as his heartbeat gradually slowed beneath your ear. The room was warm with the afterglow, heavy with the scent of sweat and skin and something that felt like satisfaction down to the bone.
Luca let out a long, shaky breath, one hand sliding up your back lazily, the other cupping the back of your head like he never wanted to let you go.
“Jesus,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “What the hell was that?”
You smiled against his chest, pressing a slow kiss to the center of it. “That was me taking care of you.”
He let out a breathy, stunned laugh. “You mean ruining me? Because, babe… I’m gonna need another month of recovery after that.”
You lifted your head, propping yourself up on your elbow so you could look down at him. His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes still a little dazed—and that smile, god, that smile was all yours.
“Don’t act like you didn’t love every second,” you teased, brushing a fingertip along his collarbone.
“I did. I do,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious under the teasing. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone make me feel like that. You took your time… you knew exactly what I needed.”
Your expression softened too, your fingers drifting up to brush his hair back from his forehead. “You’ve been through a lot. You needed to feel wanted. In control of something again—even if I was the one calling the shots tonight.”
He pulled you down into a kiss—gentle this time, unhurried. When he pulled back, his hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek like he couldn’t stop touching you.
“I’m seriously impressed, Y/N. That outfit, that attitude, the way you—” He broke off, shaking his head with a grin. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”
You smirked. “I’ve been holding back. But don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more surprises for you.”
He groaned dramatically, pulling you in tighter. “You’re gonna kill me. I swear. I’ll die happy, but—dead.”
You snuggled into his chest, your fingers tracing slow patterns over his skin. “Nah. You’ll live. Just barely. Besides, I like having you under my care.”
He kissed your hair, voice thick with affection. “Yeah? Well… consider me your full-time patient. Forever, if that’s what it takes.”
You smiled, already plotting your next move. Maybe next time it’d be silk restraints. Or a “routine exam.” The possibilities were endless—and Luca, clearly, was more than willing.
