Chapter 5
“You saw mine. So it’s only fair, right?”
Dr. Maren stares at me. For the first time all afternoon, he looks caught off guard.
“Reid, that would be... highly inappropriate. I hope you understand.”
“Inappropriate? You’ve had your hands all over my junk. You made me watch porn, for fuck’s sake. And now you’re worried about what’s appropriate?”
He rubs the back of his neck, and I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Good. For once, he’s the flustered one.
“It’s not the same,” he says. “We were conducting a diagnostic test.”
“You just told me you wanted to get to the bottom of this. To explore it. So let’s explore. Yeah, I know it’s unorthodox, but nothing about today has been by the book, doc. So just... show me your dick. Please.”
A long silence. Just the rhythmic thumping of that damn washing machine.
Maren looks at the door. At the clock on the wall. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head. When’s his next appointment? Does he even have one? Or am I the only patient today?
“You understand this can’t leave this room. What happens here, what we discuss, is strictly between us. I’m putting my trust in you.”
“I get it,” I say. “I’m not a snitch.”
He holds my gaze for a long second. Then he reaches for his white coat.
Pops the first button. Then the second. The coat falls open, revealing a fitted black T-shirt underneath.
His chest is broad, and the fabric stretches tight across his shoulders.
He shrugs the coat back but keeps it on, hanging open at his sides.
My hands are getting clammy. My heart is doing that thing where it thuds once, then twice, like it’s tripping over itself. Why is this so intense? I’m just asking a guy to show me his dick. I’ve seen plenty of dicks in the locker room. This shouldn’t be any different.
The doctor’s hands drop to his waist. The scrub pants sit low on his hips, tied with a simple drawstring. His fingers find the knot and pull it loose in one smooth motion. He pauses, hands resting on the waistband, looking at me.
I’m warm all over. A prickle of sweat beads at my hairline. I can’t look away.
He tugs the fabric down. Not all the way. Just enough to reveal a thatch of ink-black hair, the same color as the hair on his head. Then lower, over the V of his hips.
And there it is.
My breath catches.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Just another dick, I guess.
But it’s not. It’s perfect. That’s the only word for it.
Massive. Has to be eight inches, easy. Thick too, with a prominent vein running along the top.
Semi-hard, hanging at a proud angle, the head wide, a shade darker than the shaft.
His balls hang full and heavy below. He’s not manscaped or anything.
Just raw. Ungroomed. Wild dark hair trailing from his navel down into a thick bush around his cock. Everything about him is pure man.
My body is screaming. It does things to me I wasn’t prepared for. My dick goes from half-mast to a full raging hard-on in a single heartbeat. The gown tents so hard I’m surprised the fabric doesn’t rip.
I’m staring. I know I am. My mouth is probably hanging open. I can’t help it. And I don’t even know why this is happening. I thought I knew myself. I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve spent years chasing cheerleaders and sorority girls. And now I’m sitting here drooling over some dude’s dick.
Dr. Maren clears his throat. “As you can see, I’m not entirely unaffected myself,” he says. “Sorry about that.”
He is definitely bigger now than he was a second ago. The head is plumper. The whole thing has lifted.
“Don’t be sorry,” I say automatically. “It’s…” I can’t finish the sentence. “I mean, you’re... well. You know.” My face is a furnace.
He smirks. Just a small, private thing at the corner of his mouth. Then he pulls up his scrubs. The knot is retied just as quickly as it was undone. And just like that, it’s over.
“No, no. Wait.” It comes out before I can stop it, and I immediately hear how pathetic I sound.
The doctor nods toward my lap. “I think we have our answer, Reid.”
The answer. Right. The answer to why I can’t get hard for girls. But right now the only answer I want is more of what I just saw.
“Can you just…” A desperate flush of shame. “Can you keep it out for a little longer? Please?”
“You might not have been responding to the videos, Reid,” he says calmly, ignoring my plea. “But it could be that they weren’t the right age group. I only showed you younger men. College-aged.”
My ears are ringing. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you might be attracted to a more mature type. Someone older. And maybe someone in a position of authority.”
He might be onto something. He really might. Everything about him has that confident, settled quality that I don’t have. That none of my boys have. The posture, the presence, the way he holds eye contact without flinching. He’s used to being in charge. Used to being the smartest person in the room.
“One more look,” I whisper, my own voice sounding foreign to me. “Please, doc. Just to be sure.”
“Reid, I might not be the most conventional doctor. But I’m still a doctor. The diagnostic portion of this consultation is over. We’ve identified the stimulus.”
“You were getting hard, man. I saw you,” I push. “You can’t tell me you felt nothing when you were touching me. You liked it. Admit it.”
“If I recall correctly, you called me a ‘weirdo’ who gets off on touching football players,” he says, a bit sharper. “What happened to that narrative?”
I look down at the tent in my lap, face burning. “I was freaking out. I didn’t mean it.”
He leans against the desk, crossing his arms. His biceps strain against the white coat. I’m noticing too many things about him now. The few silver strands in his black hair, the set of his jaw, the veins on the backs of his hands.
“Are you single?” I blurt out.
“Reid—”
“Are you?”
A long sigh. “Yes. I am.”
“Do you live here alone?”
Another pause. “I’m not sure that’s relevant.”
“Are you gay? Bi?”
“I’ve never found labels particularly useful,” he says. “I’m attracted to people. Not genders.”
“People like me?”
“Sometimes,” he admits, and my dick throbs. “But there’s a professional and ethical line here that I can’t cross.”
“Why not? I’m twenty-one. I’m a consenting adult. And I’m literally begging you to let me have one last look at your dick. Just a look. Who am I gonna tell anyway? If this gets out, my life is over too.”
“Reid, I have another appointment soon.” He glances at the clock again.
In a flash of desperation, I throw a Hail Mary.
The last thing I have to bargain with. I grab the hem of the gown and lift it.
Just enough. Letting him see what he’s done to me.
Rock hard, angry-looking, the tip slick with precum.
An erection I haven’t been able to get in months.
Maybe years. And I haven’t even touched myself.
“Look,” I whisper. “Look what you do to me, doc.”