Demon
Feliciano shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting impatiently for his name to be called. He was hungover, and the sick feeling was starting to come back as the effects of the joint he smoked earlier began to wear off. The waiting room was small, and relatively empty. A pile of untouched magazines littered the small table in the middle of the room, the glossy pages shining in the garish illumination of the fluorescent overhead lights. Hard, uncomfortable chairs lined three of the four walls. After watching two other people be admitted, there were only four people left in the waiting room with him, providing him with some distraction as he waited his turn.
A few chairs down from him, a slender Asian man with long, inky hair pulled back in a low ponytail hunched over a stack of papers, occasionally making small marks with a red pen. From where Feliciano sat, they looked like tests. Was this man a teacher? Possibly.
Next to the teacher, a man with shockingly blonde, nearly silver hair and violet eyes was talking rapidly on his smart phone in a foreign language. Feliciano had spent the better part of his wait trying to place it, but he still hadn’t come to a definite conclusion. Something Scandinavian though, that much he was fairly certain of.
Across from him, a tall, muscular man with glasses was talking to the small boy next to him in English. They had come in together, and they both had dark blonde hair and blue eyes, but the man’s accent was unmistakably American, while the small boy sounded British. Feliciano couldn’t understand it. If they were father and son, or even brothers, they wouldn’t have different accents, would they? He had been straining to catch a snatch of their conversation, but they kept their voices down.
“Feliciano Vargas?”
“That’s me,” he said, getting up gratefully and wincing as the reminder of why he was here burned painfully between his legs.
Gritting his teeth and trying valiantly to walk normally, he followed the nurse down the hall and into another small, white room.
“The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said curtly, closing the door with a snap behind her.
Once again left to wait, Feliciano looked around the room nervously. He hated doctors. When he finally ended up in hell (which he had no doubt he would), he was sure that all the demons charged with his torment would be wearing white lab coats and carry stethoscopes. The walls were lined with jars of Q-tips, boxes of rubber gloves, and all sorts of other seemly innocent items that doctors put to horrible uses. A plastic box mounted on the wall said “WARNING: BIOHAZARDOUS WASTE” in big orange letters with a picture of syringe next to it. Feliciano blanched. He sincerely hoped this wouldn’t involve any blood work…
“Good morning, Signore Vargas. I’m Dr. Honda.”
Feliciano whipped around to see who had spoken and stared. This was the doctor? He was… gorgeous. He had the typical slight build of an Asian man, but his dark eyes sparkled with keen intelligence, and the gentle curve of his eyelids contrasted beautifully with the jut of his high cheekbones.
“G-good morning,” he stuttered, watching the doctor take a seat in the low swivel chair in the corner. Even the white doctor’s coat, usually so intimidating, gave him a sexy, professional look.
“So what’s bothering you, Signore?” he asked, the slight accent giving the Italian words a musical quality as he rifled through the folder he carried, “It says here you have a rash?”
“Well…” he began, flushing, “it’s a little more complicated than that…”
Dr. Honda waited patiently for him to speak, jerking his head impatiently to shake his jet black hair from his eyes.
Come on, Feliciano, get a grip! he thought sharply.
“I…um… well, I do have a rash,” he began hesitantly, staring fixedly at the floor, “but it’s in a certain area…”
A certain area!? A tiny voice in his head asked derisively. Since when did you become so modest?
“Ah, I see,” Dr. Honda said with a small, knowing smile (fuck, it was a damn cute smile, too…) “Could you please remove your pants for me, Signore Vargas?”
Feliciano almost choked.
Could you please remove your pants for me, Dr. Honda?
Fumbling with his belt, acutely aware of the doctor’s presence, he managed to loosen his pants and let them fall down around his knees. The doctor didn’t move, just watched with that bland, oriental stare as Feliciano pulled down his boxers as well. He’d done that very same thing hundreds of times, had undressed himself for the pleasure of countless men, but never had he felt as self conscious as he did now.
And there it was, the glaring, angry red rash all over his balls and inner thighs. It had even started creeping up onto his cock; that was when he decided it was time to see the doctor.
“Hm…”
The doctor made a noncommittal sound in his throat as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Feliciano watched him do so, realizing very
suddenly that this young, sexy doctor was about to feel him up. The very thought sent a small, familiar shiver down his spine.
Don’t get excited! He reprimanded himself as the doctor scooted his chair a little closer, but it was easier said than done.
It really shouldn’t have felt sexual, but it was all he could do to keep his composure as he felt the doctor’s latex-covered fingers cup his scrotum. Tiny pinpricks of pleasure needled his groin as the doctor’s fingers brushed his (momentarily) limp cock as he examined the nasty rash. And then there it was. He sucked in his breath sharply as the familiar burn lanced through his body, killing any kind of pleasure he’d been feeling as the doctor touched him the wrong way.
Feeling him tense, the doctor immediately released him.
“Are you sexually active, Signore?” he asked.
Feliciano almost laughed.
You have no idea, doc…
“Si, I am,” he said out loud. He paused; then “is the rash… is it sexually transmitted?” he asked hesitantly, voicing the small fear that had lived in the pit of his stomach from the moment the rash appeared.
“I’m not sure yet. I have to take a closer look,” the doctor said, “but it doesn’t appear to be.”
Oh god!
Feliciano nearly gasped as Dr. Honda took his balls in his fingers once again. He really tried to keep himself under control, but he felt like his cock had developed a mind of its own.
Of course, he thought bitterly, the one time I don’t want to be aroused…
Normally it was the other way around. With certain clients it took great feats of imagination and willpower to get himself up, but he didn’t think he’d ever been with someone as hot as this asian doctor.
Barely breathing, he was half hard when the doctor finally withdrew his fingers.
“What, ahm, what kind of detergent do you use, Signore?” he asked, his voice oddly hoarse.
Feliciano raised an eyebrow. The doctor was determinedly not looking at his patient’s disobedient cock, his face a perfect mask of professional interest. Feliciano had seen that look before, many times, from men still unsure of themselves, still uncomfortable with their own desires. It definitely wasn’t the awkward discomfort of a straight man. It was the prickly, painful struggle of an almost client.
“Detergent, doctor?” he asked, hardly daring to believe his luck, “you mean, for my laundry?”
“No- Yes, yes, laundry detergent, that’s what I was asking for,” Dr. Honda said breathlessly, delicately brushing his forehead with one crisp, white sleeve.
Feliciano shrugged. “Some cheap brand I get in the convenient store. Why?”
“I b-believe your rash may be an allergic reaction to the detergent you use,” the doctor stuttered, “I can prescribe you a cream for it that should take away the pain, but your best bet is to stop using that detergent.”
“If it’s an allergic reaction, why don’t I have it anywhere else, then?” Feliciano asked, but inside he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.
“Well, the, ahm, genital region is very, ah, sensitive,” the doctor stumbled.
Feliciano smiled. It was too easy.
“Oh, is it, doctor?” he asked mischievously, sitting down in the doctor’s lap and pushing him roughly against the back of the chair.
“What- what are you-?” Dr. Honda began, but his protests were cut of as Feliciano pressed his lips to his. It was better than Feliciano pictured, the lips so soft, the surrender so quick…
“Tell me more about the genital region, doctor,” he purred, breaking the kiss to suck playfully on the doctor’s earlobe.
“I-can’t do this. If anyone comes in…” the doctor whispered frantically, though he did nothing to push Feliciano away.
“Don’t worry. We’ll just have to be extra quiet, that’s all,” Feliciano said, letting his fingers trail down over the doctor’s body, quickly unbuttoning his collared shirt and running his fingers over the smooth torso underneath, pausing to tease at the button of the doctor’s work pants.
It was too bad, he would have liked to see the doctor naked, would have liked to work him until he screamed Feliciano’s name with that gorgeous accent. Ah, well, he’d just have to make do with what he had.
Unzipping the doctor’s pants, he slipped his fingers between the folds of cloth and released the hard cock, already throbbing with want under his touch. His own erection was becoming painful, but he didn’t have to stop and think for a moment. There would be no condom this time; there weren’t any around. He’d just gotten over an STD scare; now he was going to have unprotected sex with a complete stranger?
Damn it, Feliciano, he’s a doctor, for fuck’s sake!
Mind made up, he pushed himself up onto his knees. Steadying himself with one hand on the doctor’s shoulder, he sucked at two of his fingers to moisten them. Just as there would be no condom, there would be no lube either.
Satisfied, he let his fingers drop between his legs and entered himself, letting out a little involuntary gasp. How different this burn was from the burn of the rash. It was still painful, but in such a good way…
Closing his eyes, he worked and stretched himself, stoking his desire even further with his own fingers, until, satisfied, he lowered himself down onto the breathless doctor’s throbbing erection.
Dr. Honda moaned in spite of himself, his shaking hands, now free of their latex prisons, slipping lightly under Feliciano’s shirt.
Slowly, Feliciano thrust downward, groaning as the doctor completely filled him, then back up, going faster and faster as he found a rhythm. The doctor’s hair was sleek with sweat, his head thrown back against the chair as Feliciano worked him.
Doing his best to keep quiet, biting his lip against the moans that threatened to escape, Feliciano felt the tight coil of heat deep in his belly winding tighter and tighter as he continued to thrust, continued to push the doctor’s blessed hardness up against that spot deep inside him that made his entire body writhe with pleasure. He hadn’t been touched there in a long time; normally, he was the penetrator. But this rash made that difficult, and now…
He felt the doctor’s body stiffen beneath him, saw his back arch suddenly against the chair, and suddenly he was filled with sticky heat as the doctor came inside him, groaning despite his insistence that they couldn’t be caught.
Within moments, Feliciano felt the rush himself, as that little coil of heat suddenly burst, pulsing through him as he came all over the doctor’s naked chest.
Breathing heavily, Feliciano slowly pushed himself to his feet, and then gasped as his balls brushed the fabric of the doctor’s pants in just the wrong way. He felt like his groin was on fire as all the skin infected by the rash burned angrily at the unwelcome contact.
With shaking fingers, the doctor cleaned his chest with a few paper towels.
“Well, Signore Vargas, would you like the prescription for that cream?” he asked.
A few chairs down from him, a slender Asian man with long, inky hair pulled back in a low ponytail hunched over a stack of papers, occasionally making small marks with a red pen. From where Feliciano sat, they looked like tests. Was this man a teacher? Possibly.
Next to the teacher, a man with shockingly blonde, nearly silver hair and violet eyes was talking rapidly on his smart phone in a foreign language. Feliciano had spent the better part of his wait trying to place it, but he still hadn’t come to a definite conclusion. Something Scandinavian though, that much he was fairly certain of.
Across from him, a tall, muscular man with glasses was talking to the small boy next to him in English. They had come in together, and they both had dark blonde hair and blue eyes, but the man’s accent was unmistakably American, while the small boy sounded British. Feliciano couldn’t understand it. If they were father and son, or even brothers, they wouldn’t have different accents, would they? He had been straining to catch a snatch of their conversation, but they kept their voices down.
“Feliciano Vargas?”
“That’s me,” he said, getting up gratefully and wincing as the reminder of why he was here burned painfully between his legs.
Gritting his teeth and trying valiantly to walk normally, he followed the nurse down the hall and into another small, white room.
“The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said curtly, closing the door with a snap behind her.
Once again left to wait, Feliciano looked around the room nervously. He hated doctors. When he finally ended up in hell (which he had no doubt he would), he was sure that all the demons charged with his torment would be wearing white lab coats and carry stethoscopes. The walls were lined with jars of Q-tips, boxes of rubber gloves, and all sorts of other seemly innocent items that doctors put to horrible uses. A plastic box mounted on the wall said “WARNING: BIOHAZARDOUS WASTE” in big orange letters with a picture of syringe next to it. Feliciano blanched. He sincerely hoped this wouldn’t involve any blood work…
“Good morning, Signore Vargas. I’m Dr. Honda.”
Feliciano whipped around to see who had spoken and stared. This was the doctor? He was… gorgeous. He had the typical slight build of an Asian man, but his dark eyes sparkled with keen intelligence, and the gentle curve of his eyelids contrasted beautifully with the jut of his high cheekbones.
“G-good morning,” he stuttered, watching the doctor take a seat in the low swivel chair in the corner. Even the white doctor’s coat, usually so intimidating, gave him a sexy, professional look.
“So what’s bothering you, Signore?” he asked, the slight accent giving the Italian words a musical quality as he rifled through the folder he carried, “It says here you have a rash?”
“Well…” he began, flushing, “it’s a little more complicated than that…”
Dr. Honda waited patiently for him to speak, jerking his head impatiently to shake his jet black hair from his eyes.
Come on, Feliciano, get a grip! he thought sharply.
“I…um… well, I do have a rash,” he began hesitantly, staring fixedly at the floor, “but it’s in a certain area…”
A certain area!? A tiny voice in his head asked derisively. Since when did you become so modest?
“Ah, I see,” Dr. Honda said with a small, knowing smile (fuck, it was a damn cute smile, too…) “Could you please remove your pants for me, Signore Vargas?”
Feliciano almost choked.
Could you please remove your pants for me, Dr. Honda?
Fumbling with his belt, acutely aware of the doctor’s presence, he managed to loosen his pants and let them fall down around his knees. The doctor didn’t move, just watched with that bland, oriental stare as Feliciano pulled down his boxers as well. He’d done that very same thing hundreds of times, had undressed himself for the pleasure of countless men, but never had he felt as self conscious as he did now.
And there it was, the glaring, angry red rash all over his balls and inner thighs. It had even started creeping up onto his cock; that was when he decided it was time to see the doctor.
“Hm…”
The doctor made a noncommittal sound in his throat as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Feliciano watched him do so, realizing very
suddenly that this young, sexy doctor was about to feel him up. The very thought sent a small, familiar shiver down his spine.
Don’t get excited! He reprimanded himself as the doctor scooted his chair a little closer, but it was easier said than done.
It really shouldn’t have felt sexual, but it was all he could do to keep his composure as he felt the doctor’s latex-covered fingers cup his scrotum. Tiny pinpricks of pleasure needled his groin as the doctor’s fingers brushed his (momentarily) limp cock as he examined the nasty rash. And then there it was. He sucked in his breath sharply as the familiar burn lanced through his body, killing any kind of pleasure he’d been feeling as the doctor touched him the wrong way.
Feeling him tense, the doctor immediately released him.
“Are you sexually active, Signore?” he asked.
Feliciano almost laughed.
You have no idea, doc…
“Si, I am,” he said out loud. He paused; then “is the rash… is it sexually transmitted?” he asked hesitantly, voicing the small fear that had lived in the pit of his stomach from the moment the rash appeared.
“I’m not sure yet. I have to take a closer look,” the doctor said, “but it doesn’t appear to be.”
Oh god!
Feliciano nearly gasped as Dr. Honda took his balls in his fingers once again. He really tried to keep himself under control, but he felt like his cock had developed a mind of its own.
Of course, he thought bitterly, the one time I don’t want to be aroused…
Normally it was the other way around. With certain clients it took great feats of imagination and willpower to get himself up, but he didn’t think he’d ever been with someone as hot as this asian doctor.
Barely breathing, he was half hard when the doctor finally withdrew his fingers.
“What, ahm, what kind of detergent do you use, Signore?” he asked, his voice oddly hoarse.
Feliciano raised an eyebrow. The doctor was determinedly not looking at his patient’s disobedient cock, his face a perfect mask of professional interest. Feliciano had seen that look before, many times, from men still unsure of themselves, still uncomfortable with their own desires. It definitely wasn’t the awkward discomfort of a straight man. It was the prickly, painful struggle of an almost client.
“Detergent, doctor?” he asked, hardly daring to believe his luck, “you mean, for my laundry?”
“No- Yes, yes, laundry detergent, that’s what I was asking for,” Dr. Honda said breathlessly, delicately brushing his forehead with one crisp, white sleeve.
Feliciano shrugged. “Some cheap brand I get in the convenient store. Why?”
“I b-believe your rash may be an allergic reaction to the detergent you use,” the doctor stuttered, “I can prescribe you a cream for it that should take away the pain, but your best bet is to stop using that detergent.”
“If it’s an allergic reaction, why don’t I have it anywhere else, then?” Feliciano asked, but inside he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.
“Well, the, ahm, genital region is very, ah, sensitive,” the doctor stumbled.
Feliciano smiled. It was too easy.
“Oh, is it, doctor?” he asked mischievously, sitting down in the doctor’s lap and pushing him roughly against the back of the chair.
“What- what are you-?” Dr. Honda began, but his protests were cut of as Feliciano pressed his lips to his. It was better than Feliciano pictured, the lips so soft, the surrender so quick…
“Tell me more about the genital region, doctor,” he purred, breaking the kiss to suck playfully on the doctor’s earlobe.
“I-can’t do this. If anyone comes in…” the doctor whispered frantically, though he did nothing to push Feliciano away.
“Don’t worry. We’ll just have to be extra quiet, that’s all,” Feliciano said, letting his fingers trail down over the doctor’s body, quickly unbuttoning his collared shirt and running his fingers over the smooth torso underneath, pausing to tease at the button of the doctor’s work pants.
It was too bad, he would have liked to see the doctor naked, would have liked to work him until he screamed Feliciano’s name with that gorgeous accent. Ah, well, he’d just have to make do with what he had.
Unzipping the doctor’s pants, he slipped his fingers between the folds of cloth and released the hard cock, already throbbing with want under his touch. His own erection was becoming painful, but he didn’t have to stop and think for a moment. There would be no condom this time; there weren’t any around. He’d just gotten over an STD scare; now he was going to have unprotected sex with a complete stranger?
Damn it, Feliciano, he’s a doctor, for fuck’s sake!
Mind made up, he pushed himself up onto his knees. Steadying himself with one hand on the doctor’s shoulder, he sucked at two of his fingers to moisten them. Just as there would be no condom, there would be no lube either.
Satisfied, he let his fingers drop between his legs and entered himself, letting out a little involuntary gasp. How different this burn was from the burn of the rash. It was still painful, but in such a good way…
Closing his eyes, he worked and stretched himself, stoking his desire even further with his own fingers, until, satisfied, he lowered himself down onto the breathless doctor’s throbbing erection.
Dr. Honda moaned in spite of himself, his shaking hands, now free of their latex prisons, slipping lightly under Feliciano’s shirt.
Slowly, Feliciano thrust downward, groaning as the doctor completely filled him, then back up, going faster and faster as he found a rhythm. The doctor’s hair was sleek with sweat, his head thrown back against the chair as Feliciano worked him.
Doing his best to keep quiet, biting his lip against the moans that threatened to escape, Feliciano felt the tight coil of heat deep in his belly winding tighter and tighter as he continued to thrust, continued to push the doctor’s blessed hardness up against that spot deep inside him that made his entire body writhe with pleasure. He hadn’t been touched there in a long time; normally, he was the penetrator. But this rash made that difficult, and now…
He felt the doctor’s body stiffen beneath him, saw his back arch suddenly against the chair, and suddenly he was filled with sticky heat as the doctor came inside him, groaning despite his insistence that they couldn’t be caught.
Within moments, Feliciano felt the rush himself, as that little coil of heat suddenly burst, pulsing through him as he came all over the doctor’s naked chest.
Breathing heavily, Feliciano slowly pushed himself to his feet, and then gasped as his balls brushed the fabric of the doctor’s pants in just the wrong way. He felt like his groin was on fire as all the skin infected by the rash burned angrily at the unwelcome contact.
With shaking fingers, the doctor cleaned his chest with a few paper towels.
“Well, Signore Vargas, would you like the prescription for that cream?” he asked.