Warnings: PWP; Lemon; 2x3; OOCness; a pretty dumb premise, to be honest
Disclaimer: It's not what it looks like!
"The Doctor will see you
now, Mr. Barton."
Trowa Barton looked up from the copy of US magazine he was thumbing through
and at the pretty young nurse who had spoken to him.
"Thank you," he replied almost inaudibly, and stood, following
her to his doctor's office.
It was his second month coming to see Doctor Maxwell. He came every week
faithfully and had only just recently begun to make progress. He was not
terminally ill, nor was he facing any diseases or severe trauma, yet somehow
he often thought his plight worse than many of these. Trowa . . . was
He had not always been thus. He had never been particularly attracted
to women but he could remember fondling himself as a teenager and being
aroused by the other boys in his gym class. And at one point, he had even
had a boyfriend.
He and a man named Quatre had dated for over a year, and when they first
met, Trowa had been able to make love to the smaller blonde, and did so
frequently. But as their relationship progressed, Trowa's problems began.
Quatre had been a sweet soul and was understanding for a long time. As
time passed, however, Quatre grew frustrated, and even after Trowa's attempts
to appease him, Quatre had told him politely that he could not be with
a man who couldn't fuck him stupid. Countless blow-jobs later, Trowa was
And desperate. He had read about Dr. Maxwell in a magazine ad, a specialist
in helping men in his condition, and after several bouts of severe depression,
decided to give him a try. Couldn't hurt.
Since then he had grown to trust Dr. Maxwell and had even admitted his
homosexuality to him and told him about Quatre. The one thing he couldn't
say was why he was having this problem to begin with. Somewhere, in the
deepest most secluded corners of his mind, he knew it was something from
his past, some atrocity that had been done to him that his conscious mind
no longer recognized. And he was glad it didn't.
The nurse walked him into the familiar room, colored in neutral pastel
tones, the walls covered in former patient's artwork.
Trowa sat, watching as the nurse left and waited for Dr. Maxwell. He was
extremely nervous. It was not that he minded doctors, in fact he had grown
quite fond of Dr. Maxwell. No, his nervousness came from excitement. He
found himself wishing he might never have another erection just as an
excuse to continue seeing the lovely doctor, but at the same time wished
he had one now, a lovely gift with which to greet his physician.
"Trowa!" Dr. Maxwell greeted him as he walked in from a side
door. "How've you been?" He strolled to where Trowa sat on a
leather sofa and sat down opposite him, shaking Trowa's hand in hello.
"Okay, I guess." Trowa scooted further toward the arm of the
sofa, distancing himself safely at three feet.
"Good," Dr. Maxwell, commented and picked up a clipboard and
pen from a nearby table, flipping through the pages.
Trowa watched him, admired him. The doctor had beautifully braided long
hair, and deep violet eyes. He was built solidly but with a whisper of
femininity that Trowa found endearing, if only he found it arousing.
Trowa felt his cheeks burn hot with shame, not at his lustful thoughts,
but at his inability to act upon them. He looked at his hands, wringing
them in his lap.
"You don't seem okay to me."
Trowa looked up into blazing violet pools. Dr. Maxwell had obviously noticed
his unease and a look of concern painted his precious face.
"Did you watch those movies we talked about?" Dr. Maxwell asked
softly, setting his clipboard on the floor.
"Yes," Trowa looked back at his hands, "but, Dr. Maxwell,
I don't think--"
"Trowa," Dr. Maxwell interrupted, "if I've told you once
I've told you a thousand times, call me Duo." Duo smiled sweetly,
the offering lost on Trowa who still watched his own hands. "Now,
what were you saying?"
"Duo," Trowa's words were hesitant, "I'm pretty sure heterosexuality
isn't my thing, I--it didn't do anything for me."
"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out, what exactly 'your
thing' is. If your episode began during a homosexual encounter, then we
have to at least explore the opposite-sex alley. Anything's worth a shot."
Duo turned sideways, to fully face Trowa, or at least the top of Trowa's
head, and leaned his head on his arm which rested on the back of the sofa.
His voice was soft. "What about the masturbation? How did that work
Trowa's cheeks grew hotter. "I couldn't," he admitted reluctantly,
"I tried in the shower, like you said, . . . I just . . . nothing.
"That's fine." Duo's voice was soothing, as was the gentle hand
he placed on Trowa's shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Trowa, I promise."
Trowa loved the feel of that hand on his shoulder. He imagined what it
might feel like to have a sexual reaction to it. It had been so long that
his body barely remembered what a hard-on felt like. He longed to ache
somewhere besides his heart.
"Trowa," Duo cooed, and Trowa realized he had been silent for
a long moment.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm fine."
"Trowa," Duo said again, moving his hand under Trowa's chin
and lifting his face into view, "you can't keep hiding from me. I
only want to help you."
Trowa met those violet oceans timidly, fearfully, and the corners of his
mouth trembled as he spoke. "I don't think that can be done."
Duo sat quietly, regarding his patient, and then let go of Trowa's face
and rose from the sofa.
He didn't say anything as he removed his button-down shirt, nor when he
peeled off his pants, letting them drop to the floor in a soft heap. It
wasn't until he slid silk boxers down over creamy thighs that he stopped
"Will you let me try to help you, Trowa?"
Trowa looked at the beautiful figure before him, brown braid snaking over
one shoulder, hands falling timidly at his sides, his pretty cock quickly
springing to life from his exhibitionism. How could he say no.
Trowa nodded in reply and Duo stepped a little closer to him, not touching,
not reaching, just waiting.
"What do you want me to do Trowa?" A slight flush crept over
his body. "Should I undress you? Touch you?"
Trowa was silent.
"Maybe I should just . . . touch myself." And as he spoke his
right hand moved to rest on his hip and then traveled inward over his
taut stomach, it's destination clear.
Trowa watched all of this with no little fascination.
Duo's fingers danced across his stomach, pressing inward at times, smoothing
lightly at others and when he reached the tip of his weeping erection
which now arched upward toward his abdomen, his head fell back in pleasure,
his eyes closing, braid falling to hang behind him.
He wrapped his thin fingers around his own pulsing shaft and began slowly
working up and then down its length. He started to breathe heavily and
his chest rose and fell rapidly. He was so close that Trowa could have
leaned forward a little to take the engorged member into his mouth, tasting
"Trowa," he moaned breathily, the word a plea, "Trowa,
it's you. It's you touching me . . . not me."
Trowa was mesmerized and ecstatic. While Duo tended to himself, he had
a very distinct feeling in his groin. It was only fleeting, and seemed
to come in sporadic waves, but nonetheless it was more aroused than he
had been in a very long time.
Duo's pants became less frequent and his hand slowed its movement, moving
to stroke his thigh instead. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to
peer at Trowa. "That was close, love, you'll have to be more careful
next time, I might not have the presence of mind to stop you in the future."
He smiled coyly. "Aren't you a might too clothed for the activities
of the day?" And he moved forward to help Trowa from his clothing.
Trowa stiffened, and Duo stopped,he turned serious and his voice became
soothing. "We don't have to, Trowa. Just say it and it stops."
Trowa looked at the caring face, heard the so sweet words and rose to
let Duo remove his clothing.
Seconds later he stood bare in front of Duo. He looked down at his flaccid
member and willed it to life. It mocked him, hanging limply.
"Do you want to touch it for me?" Duo asked seductively, at
least a foot away, still not pushing too far.
"Should I, then?"
"Trowa," Duo moved closer to Trowa, and Trowa's shoulders shook.
Duo couldn't see the man's face but saw a wet drop fall to the ground.
He embraced him.
It was somewhat awkward, Duo's solid cock pushing into Trowa's soft one
but Trowa delighted in the contact. He felt loved in that instant and
was comforted by it.
"I want to sit." Trowa whispered and sat back down, his back
to the arm of the sofa, knees drawn before him to hide his nakedness.
Duo sat opposite him.
"Do you like dirty-talk, Trowa?"
Trowa shrugged. "I don't know."
Duo scooted closer, whispering to the top of Trowa's head.
"What if I said I wanted you inside me? I want to feel your hard
cock pushing into me? Would you do that Trowa? Would you fuck me?"
Trowa was quiet.
Duo thought, and then spoke again.
"Have you ever been fucked, Trowa?" Trowa jumped slightly,
so did his groin.
Duo noticed and continued. "When you were with Quatre, did he ever
make love to you? I would. I can."
Trowa looked up at Duo. The words kept coming.
"Do you see me, Trowa?" Duo was moving into Trowa's space, leaning
with one foot on the ground, his other knee resting on the couch, his
erection rubbing Trowa's leg. "Do you see how hard you make me?"
He groaned as he ground himself into Trowa. "I want you Trowa, my
thick cock in your sweet ass."
Trowa was beyond belief now, he had in his lap, squashed between his chest
and his upraised thighs a small yet growing erection. He felt the blood
draining from other parts of his body and into that most precious organ.
He wanted more. He spread his legs a little for Duo to see. Duo seemed
"So you're a catcher eh, Trowa?" Duo smiled and continued rubbing
Trowa's thigh. "Have you ever been uke before?"
"What?" Trowa asked, wishing Duo would continue with his monologue
instead distracting him with questions.
"Have you ever taken it up the ass?"
"Perhaps that's your problem," a pause, "maybe we can fix
Trowa was tired of listening to Duo, he wanted to be hard, rock hard,
he wanted to feel that influx of testosterone that could make a man insane
with need and lust. He wanted to ache, and hurt, and be filled with all
of the same.
He moved his hand into his lap and shyly touched his half erection.
Duo sat back and watched.
Trowa closed his eyes leaning his head on the arm of the sofa and stretching
himself out more. The first contact was perfection, making him shiver
violently. He relinquished the touch quickly, as if too much contact might
scare the timid thing between his legs. He touched it again, and this
time he found the tip moist. He stroked the underside and fondled his
balls a little, the sensations so familiar even after so long, it was
like coming home.
He was almost rock hard now and felt ready to go further. He remembered
the other occupant of the room and his promise. He opened his eyes, to
find Duo touching himself again, incredibly aroused by Trowa's display.
He looked at the impressive equipment Duo held. He wanted it inside him.
"Duo," he cried to get the braided man's attention. Duo stilled
his hand and looked at Trowa.
Still lightly touching himself, Trowa scooted down into the sofa even
further, spreading his legs wide, and cupped all of his cock and scrotum
in one hand, pulling it up toward him, giving Duo and expansive view of
his rear and the cherry pucker buried between his cheeks.
"Duo, . . . please," Trowa panted.
Duo reveled in the site before him and then quickly rose from the couch
coming back moments later with a tube of lubricant.
He squeezed a generous amount on his hand and coated his stiff member,
and then moved to Trowa's spread opening. At the first touch of Duo's
hand and the cold lubricant, Trowa's cock jumped, and his stomach tensed.
He let out a shameless cry.
And when Duo explored him with one finger, two, and then three, Trowa's
erection was turgid, fat with desire.
Duo removed his fingers and scooted in under Trowa's lower half, draping
one impossibly long leg over his shoulder and letting the other wrap around
his waist. And then he entered.
Trowa arched painfully, and then panted breathlessly with pleasure. Duo
too found Trowa's tight body breathtakingly, sweet. There was no adjustment
period, no moment of hesitation, as soon as Duo was in he was out again.
Their movements were not rushed but riotous all the same. The leather
of the sofa creaked and whined and Trowa's gratefully hard cock thudded
against his stomach with every solid thrust. Trowa stilled it with his
own hand, reveling in the feel of his stiff member and stroked along with
When climax came it was hard and sudden. Trowa came with a great cry,
his essence spraying in a stream onto his chest, thick from disuse. Duo
found release in the glowing heat of Trowa's body. Unable to deny the
muscles that clenched around his willing cock, he filled Trowa's channel
with his hot seed, his lover's name falling clumsily from his lips.
Duo had pulled out slowly, and then moved to clean Trowa's ejaculate from
his chest with his tongue. Trowa had enjoyed the attention.
They then lay quietly on their sides on the small sofa, bodies flush,
forehead to forehead, nose to nose.
"Do you think I'm cured?" Trowa asked sleepily, his eyes half
"Perhaps." Duo was in much the same condition.
"What if I don't want to be?"
Duo opened his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"If I'm cured, I have no reason to come back."
"Well," Duo sighed, "you could always come and and let
me treat you for nymphomania."
Trowa opened his eyes now, looking confused. "But I'm not a nymphomaniac."
Duo smiled. "Well, maybe we can fix that too."
to the Reverand's fic]