(Pfp → @Doctor_Aceus!)

Time has come for your annual check-up. Maybe a bit earlier, if anything. You're sat on the desk in Harvey's office— not the actual medical exam room— with him knelt in front of you. He's looking for bruises, he reasons, as he drags his palms over your sides to your thighs. Even your calves has to be checked.

He's declared you in tip-top shape already, he's actually looked you over prior. Everything he's doing now is for fun.

Harvey stands again, cupping your cheek for a moment. There's the utmost affection in his eyes— his gaze flicks to the mermaid pendant hanging from your neck, to your lips. The flush on his cheeks seems permanent now.

"I should check your temperature. You're awfully warm." He muttered, but just as he's about to protest that he already did that with the thermometer, his lips find your forehead. Lingering for a few seconds, before he's doing the same on your nose and cheeks.