Archive of Our Own

Satoru couldn’t come.

He’d always struggled to reach that point, reach that peak of pleasure and let himself go.

Whether it was the stress put upon him by his family, his studies, all the expectations—or his sexuality. His sensuality. His lack of connection with his femininity, with the body he was born with that never quite fit him, never quite felt like home.

A stranger in his own body. Until he allowed himself to let it go and just be him.

So when he started testosterone, as his body finally began to feel like his, he thought he was on the right track. Thought his body might finally catch up to his mind. And maybe, with it, he might finally feel more in sync, more in tune.

Make it easier to fucking come.

And for the most part, things were better. His muscles started to fill out, all the long days of studying and then hitting the gym, started paying off. He kept his lithe stature, but instead of his waist narrowing to reveal thick hips, he bulked up. Obliques firm, waist slim, thighs fit after endless leg days—Utahime’s favorite. That bitch.

Finally, he felt more like himself.

But his libido.

It was obscene how quickly he got wet. He couldn't ignore his arousal anymore, not like he used to be able to. Before he could distract himself, content with never reaching that satisfaction.

Or rarely reaching it.

Reading held more satisfaction than sex. Maybe he was just asexual. He was more than content with that.

But now, as his clit firmed, growing larger as his doses increased, stimulation was inevitable. His silk panties too soft, lace too rough, cotton too breathable—blurring the line of pleasant friction and overstimulation.

Because he still couldn't come. And he wanted to. He had sexual desire, he had arousal, and he couldn’t do anything about it. There was like this suspended moment where he was there, he was right there but something stopped him, something prevented him, something held him back, and it was driving him insane.

He tried—he did. He used his hands, toys, hook-ups, and eager mouths, but nothing. He couldn’t get over that mountain, couldn’t make the ascent, and feel that sought-after rush of bliss.

So, Shoko, as she began her residency, referred him to a study. A research program at their university.

He trusted her.

He did.

But lying there with his legs spread, naked from the waist down, cunt exposed to the cold air—he was second-guessing her. Second-guessing himself.

Second-guessing his body’s reaction to the absolute beauty of a doctor smiling at him.

Student doctor.

Whatever.

“Are you comfortable?”

Satoru nodded, cheeks pink as he glanced down at the man perched on a stool at a side desk. Dark hair tied back in a bun, black strands framing his olive complexion, eyes kind, smile disarming, face angled with such perfection it had Satoru swooning.

He blinked. “Uh, yeah. This is… fine.”

The doctor glanced down at his clipboard, reading through the blurb of information Satoru had provided. The things he liked, disliked, what he tried, and what he hadn’t.

“It’s alright to be nervous. Having a stranger examine your most personal places is unnerving.” Then his lips twitched, eyes narrowing with a smile. “You can close your legs while we go over your medical history, if that might help.”

Satoru swallowed, knees bumping together at the permission, at the realization he’d opened himself up so eagerly like some desperate slut.

And yeah, he was desperate. That’s why he was there.

“How long have you been on Testosterone?”

“A year.”

“Any adverse reactions?”

Satoru shook his head, taking a deep breath to steady himself. It was easier with every smile, the gentleness in the doctor’s tone, the joke tha laced soem of his words. Helped him relax, deflect. “No. It’s been… It’s been great, actually. My sex drive has never been higher. But I just can’t finish.”

The doctor nodded, making a note on his paperwork. “Did your difficulties reaching orgasm begin after starting T?”

Satoru blushed, feet fidgeting as his socks rubbed together. “Uh… maybe? It’s always been difficult to get there. But this last year. I just can’t.”

Another soft smile. “You’re not alone in that. It’s fairly common for individuals with vaginas to have difficulty with arousal. Erectile dysfunction is actually more common.”

Individuals with vaginas. No longer a woman—never a woman, but not quite a man, not by clinical definition, not by societal. He was used to the clarification, the clinical talk from doctors, as he was in and out of offices, psychiatrists at his parents' insistence, hormone therapies with Shoko’s encouragement. There wasn’t anything wrong—he knew that. But it never ceased to stir something angry inside, something ashamed and confused—

“Especially for men like yourself. Testosterone can greatly affect reproductive systems. If dosed too high, it can mess with naturally occurring estrogen, which can lead to difficulties ejaculating. There’s often less lubrication as the vaginal walls thin, and—”

But Satoru didn't hear the rest of his doctor speak. Because he couldn’t help but warm at the way his lips wrapped around the affirmation. Doctors rarely called him a man. It was always person with a vagina or transmasculine individual as if dancing around labels was more helpful for him than harmful. As if that label of man wasn’t something he’d acquired yet.

His stomach fluttered as he tried to push down the appreciation he suddenly felt for the common decency the other afforded him.

“Do you struggle with this as well?”

Satoru blinked, trying to remember the topic of conversation. Right, getting wet. He flushed and pulled in a deep breath.

“It’s not… I get wet. Just fine. But I can’t—” Satoru flushed again, acutely aware of the heat between his legs, the twitch of his little cock at the idea of this god of a man touching him. “I can’t come.”

“Has your dose changed recently?”

Satoru nodded slowly, having left his last doctor after he had made a few choice comments he didn't care to remember. “It went up a few months back, but—the doctor and I had some… disagreements.”

Dark brows furrowed together as his pen scratched another note. His lips twitched at the corner with something soft, understanding. Inviting. “I see. This dose might not be right for you.” He paused, head tilting to the side as he watched Satoru. It made goosebumps spread over his neck, the way he looked at Satoru, not through him. “You said you had difficulties before starting T?”

Satoru nodded. “Yeah.”

“If it isn’t a hormonal imbalance, it could be psychological. There might be a block—something holding you back.” The doctor paused, looking over his notes before glancing at Satoru. “Have you had vaginal intercourse before?”

“Duh.”

The man’s eyebrow twitched, eyes narrowing with a brief flicker of amusement. He huffed something between a laugh and a scoff, tone dropping. “A yes or no will suffice.”

Satoru felt his cock twitch at the instruction, stomach flip-flopping as his thighs pressed together. That heat growing at the tone in the man's voice.

He couldn't have been more than a couple years older than Satoru. Fresh out of whatever medical program he’d spent his time in. Still, he held an air of maturity, of authority, even if that professional mask cracked on occasion, laughter coming too easily for him at Satoru’s crude quips. And Satoru couldn’t not listen to him. Not with the subtle shift in his tone, the way his shoulders rolled back, broad chest puffing slightly, eyes scrutinizing the man lying, waiting for him.

“I’m not a fucking virgin,” Satoru mumbled stupidly, unwilling to give in so easily.

“I see,” the doctor nodded, eyes lingering a touch too long on his own. “Is it painful for you?”

Satoru widened his eyes, returning them to the ceiling, hands fidgeting with the gown he wore, teasing at the fabric as he shook his head.

“Uh, sometimes. I don’t—I’m not… I’m not usually the one getting fucked.”

“Is that your preference, or because of your difficulties?”

Satoru frowned, considering his words. The suggestion beneath them. “Not sure. It’s been a while since I’ve tried.”

The doctor wrote one more line of script before putting down the clipboard, wheeling himself to Satoru’s side as he slipped his long fingers into nitrile gloves. A blue second skin hugging his thick digits.

“Then what do you like?”

The way his eyes twinkled, no judgment, no mockery. Just gentle curiosity.

Satoru swallowed, the proximity increasing that heat inside. Filling him with arousing embarrassment as his thighs pressed together. “I answered that in the form.”

A soft smile and nod of his perfect face, jaw angled with such precision he must’ve been carved from stone. “How do you touch yourself?”

And Satoru must’ve been staring. Because with the quiet authority in his voice, the subtle command to answer, had Satoru’s lips parting too eagerly. His thighs pressed together tighter, hiding that heat inside.

“I like playing with my cock—uh, clit. I guess.”

The doctor nodded, tongue wetting his lip before he spoke. It was subtle, the smallest hint of pink peaking out. And suddenly Satoru needed to feel it on himself, on his chest, between his folds, stroking over his cock.

He blinked, staring up at the ceiling as if that might hide his shame. He hated being horny all the time.

“Walk me through it.”

Satoru’s eyes widened, tilting his head to find the doctor’s gaze. Steady. Curious. Honest.

“Do you prefer vibrations, fingers, oral—”

“Oh,” the small sound left his mouth before he could stop it. Right. He just wanted to know a baseline, somewhere to start. But Satoru couldn’t stop thinking about if the doctor might try to recreate the things he liked. “Uh… I usually just use my fingers.”

Another soft, disarming smile, Satoru falling pliant underneath his stare.

“When you come, what’s tipped you over the edge?”

Satoru flushed, knees rubbing together as he played through the handful of times he’d ever actually reached climax. It was always with a pretty mouth and long fingers fucking into him.

And then he was picturing the doctor, sat between his legs, that commanding smile wrapped around the tip of his dick as his fingers explored. He shivered.

“What are you thinking about?”

He caught him, saw his slip, his arousal surely evident, that slick drip between his legs as he tried to press them tighter together as if to hide just how aroused he was by the whole thing.

“So like—I’ve only ever come on someone’s tongue.”

“Do you ever seek vaginal stimulation? Sometimes, the combination of both can enhance the experience. But it’s not for everyone.”

“Uh… yeah, actually. I don’t get it often. It’s usually too much of a hassle, and the toys I’ve tried just aren’t the same as the real thing.”

“That’s understandable. Nothing compares to another person.”

Shit. Yeah, because Satoru sure couldn't get the image of the man between his legs out of his mind.

The doctor’s voice shifted subtly, another question beneath the one he asked next. “Do you currently have a sexual partner to support you?” Because all Satoru heard was, ‘do you need one?’ And he knew that was just his brain short-circuiting at the situation he’d gotten himself into.

“No.” Satoru swallowed, that cold of loneliness pressing at his chest at the admission. He didn't need anyone. He had his friends. That’s all the support he needed. “I’ve had a few different partners. But not many wanted to stay when they figured out I was broken.”

“Your body isn’t broken, Gojo.” A gentle palm came to the back of his hand, a tentative squeeze as if unsure of the comfort a stranger could even begin to provide. “It just might need a different touch. And, unfortunately, we don't always have access to… appropriate partners.”

“You can uh… Just call me Satoru,” he mumbled, blinking long white lashes as he looked at the man’s hand holding his. Long, thick digits, moving with such certainty. No ring. No hint of one. Something hopeful fluttered in his chest, and he cursed himself, the doctor pulling back with a gentle smile.

He was beautiful. Unfairly so. How was he not supposed to get turned on by the idea of those hands reaching inside him, exploring, poking and prodding and stimulating Satoru to find out how exactly he might be able to help.

“Alright, Satoru. You can call me Suguru. No need for formalities, unless you'd rather—”

“It’s fine. I mean, you’re gonna have your fingers inside me—might as well be on a first-name basis if you’re trying to make me come.”

His laugh was just as beautiful as he was. A rumble in his firm chest, lips twitching into something more genuine, less clinical.

“We might not reach orgasm today, but it’ll be good to establish a baseline. This study is meant to help you better understand your body and your pleasure.” Satoru had signed several waivers; he knew what he was getting into. It was a research program he’d joined, so he expected some unconventional practices.

Suguru continued, palms splayed open as he spoke. “Are you comfortable if I apply some stimulation today, see for myself exactly where the disconnect is occurring? It might be physical, it might be psychological. We can try a few different techniques here in the office if you're comfortable, or I can send you home with directions and supplies to try yourself. Then we can reconvene in a week or two to discuss what went well and what didn’t, and make adjustments as needed.”

Satoru scoffed. It all sounded so sterile, so clinical. But he knew what he was getting into. “Want me to keep a little journal you can read?”

Suguru raised a dark brow, amused. “That would be incredibly helpful, yes.”

“Wanna read how I get myself off?” Satoru flushed again, but fixed himself with a smirk. He raised white brows, a glimmer in his bright blue eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need the right touch.”

Suguru’s features filled with amusement, eyes so dark they shone purple. His cheeks held the softest blush. It was breathtaking. His expression was almost stern, though, daring Satoru to continue with his eager words. “Is that what you want, Satoru? For me to touch you?”

“Uh—Yeah. That’s why I’m here.” Satoru amended, glancing down at the man’s hands. Another flutter in his stomach, stretching his body out, the gown brushing along his already hardened nipples, a flit of anticipation warming his pale skin pink.

“If at all you feel uncomfortable, I need you to voice that. Tell me to stop, or to slow down—what you're experiencing, I need to know. I’m here to help you, and I need your cooperation to do so. Reaching ejaculation—”

“Do you have to sound so clinical about it?” Satoru huffed with a slight eye roll.

Suguru’s gaze narrowed, a question beneath his dark irises. Another twitch of his lips, a smirk he tried to hide. “Would you rather I remove the pretense of professionalism?”

Satoru’s jaw twitched, pink lips curving as he leaned his head to the side, eying the doctor with amused excitement. “Why not?”

“Then spread your legs for me, Satoru.”

Fuck.

His tone left no room for argument. It wasn't a demand exactly, but an instruction Satoru was not allowed to ignore. And then his legs were parting, slick at his core.

More heat pooled, his thighs rubbing together as they parted, Suguru rolling himself to the end of the exam table, positioning himself at Satoru’s feet.

He couldn't see his face, not from his position, not well, because he was dipping down, Satoru’s gown blocking his view, save that tight bun, strands falling to frame his perfect features.

“I see arousal is not an issue,” Suguru murmured, something almost teasing in his voice. “Already dripping.”

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, to say some retort, call out his unprofessionalism—but he’d asked for this. He’d pushed the other man to this. And the worst part, he liked it. Liked that flit of satisfaction beneath his words.

“Impressive bottom growth. Only a year?”

Satoru flushed more as he nodded, the praise doing more than he cared to admit, legs fidgeting until large palms were on his thighs, the nitrile gloves warmed by large hands, pressing into his plush muscle with ease. Spreading Satoru open.

“First, I’ll do a routine examination, make sure everything's looking good. Then we can establish a baseline of pleasure.”

Satoru nodded, teeth digging into his lip as his foot bounced, nerves taking over.

“May I?” The doctor asked as a hand left Satoru’s thigh, fingers trailing up his soft skin.

“Knock yourself out,” Satoru hummed, eyes returning to the ceiling, the tiles like white corkboard, speckled with black. Fluorescent lights blinding him, forcing his eyes closed.

But Suguru caught it. The discomfort that creased his brow as his thighs tensed.

“Are you sensitive to light?”

“Kinda.”

Suguru seemed to sigh, pushing himself off his stool before he tore off his gloves, flicking off the lights, then pulling down a movable light from the ceiling, bringing it between Satoru’s legs before slipping on a fresh pair of gloves.

Immediate relief flooded him, his body relaxing as his eyes adjusted to the low light.

“These are things you need to tell me.” Came the doctor’s voice, sure with a hint of scolding. “Anything else I should know before we start?”

Satoru rolled his eyes, shaking his head before chewing on his lip. “I mean, like I said, I’m a little nervous about anything being… inside me.”

Suguru nodded with a soft hum. “I see. I’ll need to insert my—”

“Oh my god, can you not sound so sterile?”

Suguru’s laughter warmed him, breaking down his last bit of nerves at having a stranger between his legs playing with his cunt.

“I’ll need to be inside you, Satoru.”

Fuck, that’s not what he meant, he wasn't asking the doctor to talk like that.

Or was he?

“Will that be alright?”

Satoru swallowed, fingers tugging at a loose string of his gown.

“Sure. Just…”

“I’ll be gentle. If that’s what you like.”

More heat as his stomach fluttered, because that meant something more; it had to. Was he hinting that he could be rough, if Satoru preferred? He could feel himself ache, feel a bead of slick drip down his folds, down over his cheeks as he flushed, cock throbbing with interest.

“Okay. Can we… I dunno, talk about something so it doesn't feel so weird?”

Another soft laugh, gloved hands finding Satoru’s thighs again, running along his soft skin, closer to where that need was growing. That need he couldn't ever satisfy.

“Of course. Are you in school?”

Satoru nodded, closing his eyes, focusing on the doctor’s voice. On Suguru’s voice. On the low drawl, the gentle guidance behind every word.

“Yeah. I’m almost done with my Master’s.”

“Impressive. What are you studying?”

Satoru grinned. “Theoretical Physics.”

“So you’re a fellow nerd?”

Satoru laughed, beaming. “Guess so. Uh, you?” It was a stupid fucking question and he mentally kicked himself.

Then thumbs pressing at sensitive skin, spreading him open, firm at his outer folds, slipping slightly in the slick that revealed Satoru’s eager interest in the man.

He shivered, cold air kissing his cunt.

Suguru’s laughter did wonders for his nerves, though, that soft rumble vibrating through the air. He wanted to hear more of it. Wanted to feel it vibrating through the man’s chest.

“I’m still working on my doctorate.”

Satoru laughed, shaking his head. “So you’re not even a doctor?”

He felt the ghost of warm air against his skin, the man between his legs huffing another laugh. It puffed against his twitching dick, sensitive and eager for more.

“This program is part of my residency. After another year, I should have my PHD.”

“Wait so—how old are you?”

Then, gentle pressure slid over his inner labia, slipping through the slick before it circled back to his dick, brushing just beneath it, along the underside, gently moving it side to side, examining. Clinical.

Satoru choked on a sigh.

“Does my age matter?” It was teasing, knowing. “Were you expecting some creepy old man?” A snort. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No it’s just—” Satoru’s words cut off, Suguru’s thumb slipping over his length, the stimulation pleasant, adding to that tightening heat. But Satoru couldn't help but be irritated, knowing the pleasure wouldn't realize itself. “Do you even know what you're doing?”

But his thoughts couldn't continue questioning the other, slick thumb stroking over his dick. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut as his back arched ever so slightly into the touch.

“If it’s my experience that concerns you,” Suguru murmured, tone dripping with amusement at Satoru’s inability to speak, smug satisfaction lacing every word. Pressure against his dick, shifting it for a better view. His other thumb pressed inside gently, getting the other man used to the pressure. Satoru sighed, sensitivity heightened. He couldn't see what Suguru was doing. He could only feel. And the lack of sensory input—the light and sight—seemed to help him relax into the fluttering pleasure. “I’ve studied anatomy for almost seven years. Though I have plenty of experiences outside of that.”

Satoru couldn't help but grin, hips shifting. “So you fuck?”

Another warm laugh puffing over his cunt. “Sure, Satoru. I fuck.”

Satoru hummed, their conversation helping the last of his nerves. “So why, uh, anatomy?”

Suguru’s thumbs continued exploring, slipping down his dick, then rubbing circles over his folds, gently pulling them apart, peeking inside Satoru's most intimate places.

Maybe he could see it right away, what was wrong with Satoru. Maybe something had always been broken within him, maybe there wasn’t anything to be done. Any possibility of experiencing that earth-shattering pleasure Shoko insisted he needed to know for himself. Because the few orgasms he thought he’d had weren’t much to brag about.

“This might feel cold for a moment. I’m going to slip my fingers in, alright?”

Satoru swallowed, flush painting his chest, his neck, his cheeks. He wondered if Suguru could see his little cock twitch with every flutter in his stomach, every wind of heat balling tighter. He nodded, biting his lip.

And it was cold, Suguru’s fingers disappearing for a moment, two returning slick with lube before they gently pressed inside, parting him with such ease.

“The human body is quite fascinating,” Suguru murmured as his fingers pressed inside Satoru’s wet heat. “The way our brain connects with our body to feel pleasure,” Suguru breathed, Satoru tugging at his gown, shifting it down just a bit so he could see the other man. But it was difficult to process both his words and the sensations. It was strange. It was… different. “Or pain.” Something in his words, in the way his lips wrapped around the syllables, had Satoru squirming, acutely aware of the pressure inside. “The chemical reactions, the way the nervous system interacts—it became a special interest of mine.”

It was embarrassing how full he suddenly felt, just with the two digits slipping in. His hips wiggled, wanting to escape the touch, that full feeling he usually detested, somehow closer to pleasant. His fingers pressed inside, turning slightly as they reached. It was strangely intimate—sex wasn't usually. Not for him. It was detached. A means to an end.

But this wasn't sex. This was… whatever this was. Research or whatever.

“So you're a pervert?” Satoru laughed, the movement squeezing himself around Suguru’s fingers.

“If studying the way the human body processes pleasure and pain is perverted, then sure. Though I originally went into neuroscience—is this alright?” Suguru paused, fingers stilling as his head popped up, those perfect irises meeting his. Why was his voice so low, so disarming and gentle? “Does anything hurt? Tell me if you need to stop.”

Satoru shook his head, breath catching as he tried to speak. Because then those fingers were curling inside, stroking as they explored, stomach clenching as his core tingled. He was acutely aware of how he gripped the fingers inside him, wanting instinctively to push them out, used to the uncertainty, the slightly painful press inside, never feeling quite right to him.

But this, this was different somehow. And while it was overtly sterile, the combination of sensation did feel good.

“S’good,” Satoru mumbled, chewing on his lip as his body burned hot. He corrected himself, taking a deep breath. “It feels fine, I guess.”

“Good.” Satoru could hear the smile in his voice, because then his fingers were moving, pulling out before pressing back in. Nothing rough, more of an exploration, feeling around inside him, stroking along his walls, the bumps and ridges, the spongy give of him.

“Are you still comfortable with everything you marked on your intake form?”

Satoru squinted but nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

The man gave a small nod, something shifting his expression. He parted his fingers, a slight stretch that had Satoru sighing before it was lost. He felt thumbs at his folds, parting him, opening, examining. Then the briefest brush to his cock before his hands dropped.

“Everything looks perfect. Feels,” the man took a breath, something crossing his eyes before he spoke. “Good. Healthy. Nothing abnormal.”

Satoru smirked. “Perfect? Think my cock’s cute?” He couldn't help it, he really couldn't, not when Suguru fixed him with a lethal glare full of… hunger. But Satoru was imagining it, surely.

“Your cunt is too.”

Satoru choked, eyes wide as he sat up a bit, mouth parting to call him out—

“Don’t get yourself too excited,” Suguru chastised, eyes flicking down from Satoru’s, dropping between his legs as his lips twitched. “Why don't you show me how you like to be touched?”

His lips parted, unable to find words, to right himself, calm the embarrassment warming his gut because this had not right being so hot.

“You want me to jack off in front of you?”

Dark brows pulled together, lips thinning, but amusement softened his features, clearly enjoying himself. “Are you always this crude?”

Satoru grinned, leveling a playful glare at Suguru. “Only when someone's telling me what to do.”

A slight head tilt, a scrutinizing narrow of purple eyes. “You struggle with following instructions.”

“I don’t.”

“Then touch yourself, Satoru.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, head falling back as his knees bumped, instinctively trying to close himself off, hinder the man’s view of his most intimate places.

“Don’t hide.” A palm on his thigh with a gentle squeeze of encouragement, spreading his legs back open. “Show me how you want me to touch you. Then I can try myself.” A pause and a fucking smirk. “If you’re able to listen.”

He was at a loss for words. And entirely confused as to why those words, that instruction, sent a wave of heat coursing through him, blooming in his gut, aching deep inside. He couldn't close his legs. The doctor wouldn't let him. And that had him dripping. The submission he’d been forced into—that he’d signed up for—had his head reeling and his hand slipping over his chest, his other reaching between his legs, touching himself in front of the man.

“Look at you.” The smile was evident in his voice, the way it dropped a note too low, pride lacing it. But there was something condescending in his tone. “Listening so well.”

The praise sent him spiralling, shame flushing his skin hotter and brighter, that heat inside burning.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way those heated eyes fell over him, watching as his fingers slipped over his folds, gathering slick before teasing his cock. The stimulation was familiar, welcome. But brighter. Sharper. Every sense was heightened in this strange new environment.

Because he could feel the other man’s presence, feel the doctor watching, feel his breath between his legs, the soft puff retreating as he leaned back. Made himself comfortable.

Made Satoru put on a fucking show for him.

He tugged up his gown a bit, closing his eyes as he focused on his fingers trailing over his sensitive skin, tracing up over his belly, along his ribs, over his pec, a gentle squeeze to his tit. He was always so thankful for his small chest. Made top surgery unnecessary and did wonders for his dysphoria.

He sighed, pinching a nipple as his other hand played over his cunt, fingertips dipping in slightly, stroking up over his labia, up along his cock with a shudder as he took himself in hand. He pinched the nub of nerves, pulling at it in slow strokes, thumb slick over his tip. The feeling was nice, the swirl of warmth inside as tingles spread through his gut.

Satoru sighed, lip caught between his teeth as he continued, losing himself to the sensations, the subtlety of every touch. A slow build.

And then he felt pressure inside, something pushing in, slipping through his slick as it pushed past his folds, fingers fucking into his tight heat.

Suguru’s fingers.

He gasped, hips canting, instinctually seeking out his touch, the sudden stimulation inside. The cool slick of lube as he entered him, the fullness of his long, thick fingers.

His own touch stilled, surprised.

“Did I say to stop?” His voice was low, unrelenting.

“Fuck,” Satoru keened, eyes shutting tight as his legs spread open just a bit more, welcoming the man. Inviting him inside as he clenched at the intrusion. Cunt sucking him in, dick twitching as Suguru’s thumb played over his folds, spreading slick up and over his dick, joining Satoru’s hand.

The combination was delicious, Satoru thumbing his tip, Suguru pressing his fingers inside, his thumb stroking over the elongated hood of his dick.

That heat pulled tighter, winding into a ball of confusing pleasure, his muscles pulling taut, his back arching slowly as he opened himself up to the doctor fingering his cunt.

“How do I feel?”

Satoru whined, pinching his dick with more pressure, cunt tightening at his words.

“Feels good. Full.”

“It’s only two fingers, Satoru. You're already full?” A smirk in his tone, fingers fucking deeper as they turned, stroking up against his slick heat somewhere deep, unfamiliar.

“More,” Satoru hummed, losing his restraint, chasing that pleasure he hadn't felt in so fucking long. His mind swirled, the effect the man had on him embarrassing as he grew pliant, docile under his touch.

“Think you can handle it?”

Was that a challenge?

Satoru liked a challenge.

“Wanna take over then?” Satoru smirked, a laugh breaking on a moan. Because Suguru’s hand was swatting away Satoru’s, taking his dick in hand, stroking his length with slick precision that had Satoru’s hand dropping to the table with a smack as his eyes rolled.

Suguru continued stroking, gently pinching his engorged nub of nerves between his gloved fingers. Suguru hummed, jaw tense as he rolled his shoulder back, leaning closer.

“Finger-fuck all your patients like this?” Satoru hissed at the stimulation, his defense always deflecting with humor. Because he hadn't been touched like this before, not in a way that prioritized his pleasure, his enjoyment, but also simultaneously shamed him. Proved he didn't know what the fuck he was doing with his own body.

“Only the ones that run their mouths.” Suguru smiled, fingers stroking with more pressure, the combination like pleasant static spreading through his veins. Growing hotter, stronger, Satoru becoming needier.

“Maybe I need something to keep it occupied.”

“You’re insufferable, Satoru.” But it wasn't an insult. It sounded like praise, like he was impressed, like he was considering his words all too carefully. “May I—may I try something?”

“Oh, you’re asking now?” Satoru took an unsteady breath before nodding.

And then he was swallowing a moan, eyes rolling back at the sudden pleasure that bloomed. Because the way Suguru’s fingers worked him open, gently parting, scissoring as they began to stretch him, stroking along his inner walls until they were deep, so deep, deeper than he’d ever—oh fuck.

He bit his lip, hand flying to cover his mouth as he stifled the sounds he found himself making, cunt clenching as Suguru touched somewhere inside, somewhere deep that he hadn’t reached before, a sudden pleasure tingling up his spine as his eyes widened.

“Wait—” he stuttered, fists clenching as pleasure blossomed in his gut, thighs quivering as his fingers continued stroking over that spot too deep inside. His teeth dug into his knuckle, breath stuck in his chest as he lost control.

Suguru hummed. “Your g-spot is a bit further inside, tucked away beneath—here.” Suguru’s finger tips pressed, stroking in tandem as his fingers toyed with his twitching dick, slick dripping as a new world of sensation took hold. “Does it feel—”

“Good. Fuck, it feels good. Right there,” Satoru huffed, eyes squinting tight as he gripped the side of the exam table, clutching the plush of it. “I-I mean,” Satoru swallowed, embarrassed at how forward he was being. With a man he’d only just met. A doctor he had to remind himself. “Ah, fuck.”

He knew better than to be hopeful. He’d gotten close, plenty of times before, but it took longer, it took a lot longer to get so close.

“How's the dual stimulation feel for you?” Suguru asked, both hands continuing their work, slowly building up that heat inside, that ball of pleasure winding tighter as sparks tickled his core.

“You feel good. Great—” Satoru babbled as he grew overwhelmed with the sensations.

“You’re quite sensitive,” but the observation lacked the doctor’s curt tone, dripping with something more playful, more heated. Hungry.

Suguru continued twirling his fingers, turning them up as they stroked with a subtle increase in pressure, Satoru’s little cock twitching, blood filling him with that same untouched desire and need, winding tighter as Suguru’s thumb pressed just above its hood.

“Oh fuck,” Satoru moaned, his other hand finding the edge of the table, gripping it as his back arched, head fuzzing with pleasure. It was strange how comfortable Suguru had made him, how easily he’d broken down his defenses and found the right way to touch him. The right words that had him melting, submitting. “Do–do that again.”

And Suguru did, a hum of contentment at Satoru’s reactions, combining the dual stimulation, that foreign place deep inside with his over-sensitive cock throbbing under each press, stroking that inch from base to tip, then the underside.

“You’re tight,” Suguru breathed, fingers fucking into him with a flick of his wrist and Satoru was seeing stars, the stimulation to his cock, to his core, the tingling sensation he hadn’t felt in so long—it was growing overwhelming. The pressure in his gut unnerving, the idea of letting himself go, letting himself feel, somehow still scary. “Are you close already?” There was a lilt to his voice, amused.

Satoru swallowed, hips bucking as Suguru tilted his head, eyes analyzing the man beneath him on the table. Pink painted his cheeks at the bloom of shame because yeah, he was already fucking close.

“What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t—“ Satoru started but stopped, breaking off on something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Suguru’s tone dropped a note, striking Satoru’s dick before thinning the tip, circling with perfect pressure.

“It feels—“ Satoru huffed, irritated with himself, with his body. “Wrong? It’s good, fuck it’s good. But,” his thoughts were growing jumbled, his reason slipping, wondering exactly why he couldn’t push past that last bit, let that tightly wound heat finally snap. “I shouldn’t.”

He sounded frustrated. And god he was. Maybe that’s why Suguru’s fingers stilled, stroking deep inside instead of thrusting.

“It might be a psychological block,” he noted, a subtle flick of his tongue wetting his lip as his eyes left Satoru’s, returning to his cunt. “Are you… are you open to alternative methods?”

“L-like what?”

“Taking this out of the clinical setting.”

Satoru’s eyes widened as Suguru asked him—surely asking what he thought he was asking. But then he slipped a third finger inside, all three filling, stroking, pressing in so deep as they ground against his g-spot. Heat burned so bright, pulsing at his core as his cock throbbed, twitching beneath Suguru’s fingers as he toyed with it.

He moaned. Unabashed, one he couldn’t swallow, one that broke off into the most pathetic cry because he just couldn’t accept that pleasure. Couldn’t let himself feel that bliss.

Because somehow it just felt wrong.

“Are you—“ another high-pitched sound, nails digging into the plush of the exam table. “You asking me out?”

Suguru’s laugh was short, warm. Overly amused.

“I’m asking if you’d rather come on my cock than my fingers.”

Another firm stroke deep inside, fingers filling Satoru so perfectly it was driving him wild and the pleasure the absolute heat than began to consume him, toes curling, back arching, breath catching as he processed his filthy words—pictured his cock stretching him open, fucking so deep inside before filling him.

“Don’t doctors—ah, don’t you have some sort of code? Can’t f-fuck your patients or whatever?”

Suguru licked his lips, eyes dark as they met Satoru’s. Blinking up at him from half-lidded eyes, smirking between his fucking thighs. “Not a doctor just yet.”

Satoru keened, another embarrassing sound leaving his throat as he closed his eyes, focusing on that pleasure, on that heat, on the eyes burrowing into him. Watching him. Amused. Amazed.

Hungry.

“Doc—Sug—I’m close. Please.”

Suguru’s fingers never stopped, never slowed, and they didn’t quicken. They continued the same pace, the same perfect thrust inside, stroke, then drag right out, three at a time, filling him while Suguru’s other hand played with his cock, pinching, tugging, gentle then firm, over his length, thumbing his tip, swirling around the base before repeating.

“Are you thinking about me, Satoru?” Suguru murmured as he continued, watching Satoru’s face twist from between his legs. “Is that why you’re squeezing me so tight?”

“Fuck yeah,” he found himself panting, brows knit tight as Suguru deepened his thrust. “Deeper—like that. A little,” Satoru bit back his embarrassment, his need to feel that pleasure finally crashing over him, outweighing what remained of his dignity. He was so close. He couldn't lose this. Not this time. “Harder.”

Satoru could almost taste it, that tingling in his gut shooting up his spine, filling his limbs with pleasant static that threatened to consume him. The tightly wound pleasure burning so hot it was almost painful. A foreign pressure inside, that fear of coming, of soaking the other man’s fingers, of allowing himself to make such a disgusting mess—

But then they were deeper, somehow more filling, the pressure increasing as Suguru fucked his fingers into him with such fervor it had Satoru absolutely melting. So full. So good. That flutter of pain at the rough edge of his touch blossomed into something more pleasurable than he’d ever known.

He heard a soft laugh, something that sounded condescending, as if Satoru’s begging was entertaining. Shame brightened in his chest—but not the kind that brought guilt or fear. The kind that had him mewling, the embarrassment churning more heat and pressure.

“Wanna—“

Something shifted in Suguru’s movements. A sudden zeal, as if a realization had come to him.

“Are you asking?”

Satoru huffed, back arching, pleasure winding too tight.

“Can I come?”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, fuck, lemme come.”

“Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” But his fingers were thrusting harder, deeper, faster, and Satoru’s hips were rising off the table, chasing his touch, that fucked-full feeling. “Ask me nicely, Satoru, and maybe I’ll fuck you like you want.”

He couldn’t stop thinking of being full, stuffed with his cock as he struggled to breathe—

“Please—please can I come?”

He felt the air shift, felt the peak of pleasure ticking at the back of his throat as something desperately tried to rip itself from him.

“Suguru—please?”

The man hummed, power play pulling Satoru right under that insane wave of pleasure crashing over him. “Come for me, Satoru.”

Oh fuck.

The permission—it was exactly what he needed. It was unlike anything he’d felt. Unlike any other supposed orgasm, because this started so deep in his core, a pleasure so carnal it had his mind blanking, whiting, cunt spasming as his cock throbbed.

He didn’t feel the sudden gush of his slick, just pleasure, bliss, fingers stilling, pressing so deep inside right against his g-spot as they stroked without stopping.

Too much—too much, and too fucking good.

Satoru cried out, hands gripping the table, nails digging into the plush, muscles taut as that tension snapped.

He lost himself to it, let himself go, let his body fall back to the table as Suguru’s fingers slowed, thrusting slow as they dragged out then back in, fucking him through the pulsing pleasure until his body was shaking, legs falling open, dangling off the table as he fell slack.

“Holy fuck.”

A soft laugh, and then his hands were gone, and Satoru was left empty, panting, nothing but white blanking his mind.

It took him too long to return to himself. He didn’t want to.

Because quiet settled, dropping him in some side pocket of the universe, just the two of them, the rest of the world non-existent.

And that was just fine.

But when he did, when he returned, the doctor was wiping down his thighs, gentle as a warm, wet towel slipped over his sensitive skin. New gloves, less slick, thumbed over his skin, gentle circles pressed into his quivering thighs, calming the muscles that had grown so tight.

“How do you feel?” His voice was soft, faint, Satoru righting himself as he pressed up onto his elbows, wide-eyed at the man taking care of him after spitting such filth just minutes ago. And that’s when he saw the mess he’d made. Table wet with his squirt.

And then shame blossomed, not the fun, hot kind that Suguru had bestowed upon him—this was cold and scary because this was exactly why he wouldn’t let himself come. Fucking pissing himself—

“I’m impressed, Satoru.”

His words helped, they did, but still he shook his head, dropping his head back to the table as he swallowed his embarrassment.

“Seems you know how to listen after all.”

Satoru shut his eyes, legs shaking as he tried to close them. But Suguru’s hands were there, cleaning him. Gentle, sure, a touch too intimate. Comforting.

Because maybe letting himself go, letting himself feel such bliss wasn't so disgusting after all.

If anything, Suguru looked proud.

And Satoru didn't bother thinking about his underlying issues that made that idea so incredibly pleasing.

“How do you feel?” Suguru asked again, a gentle squeeze to Satoru’s thigh as he extended the table, guiding his long pale legs to rest.

“How do I feel?” Satoru echoed dumbly, eyes blinking as he brought a hand to his face, fingers carding into his hair as he tried to find the right words to encapsulate just how fucking euphoric he felt. “Fucking phenomenal. And—” he huffed, taking a strangled breath. “Kinda gross.”

Warm laughter and a fond shake of his head, dark bangs framing his beautiful eyes. “People are made to feel such shame about the pleasure they experience. It's something hard to let go of.” Suguru tossed the supplies he’d used to clean him, removing his gloves before wheeling himself to Satoru’s side.

Satoru still wouldn't look at him. At his beautiful fucking face, not after he’d seen him like that.

“I hope you can learn to.” Then a warm palm settled over his forearm. The skin-to-skin touch surprising and pleasant. So fucking nice. And his words—Satoru found himself believing them. “Because there’s nothing gross about you.”

Satoru just blinked stupidly, chest rising and falling in quick succession as he tried to figure out exactly how to fill his lungs again. Trying to process the words Suguru was speaking.

“Did you—what you said—” Satoru was babbling, post-orgasmic bliss loosening his tongue, because all he could remember was Suguru.

“You mentioned you liked dirty talk on your intake forms.”

“Oh.”

Suguru’s hand didn’t move, thumb brushing over his wrist, brow pointed as his lips twitched into a devious, knowing smirk. “Were you hoping I meant what I said?”

Satoru swallowed, cheeks bright red, embarrassment filling his entire body with such bright shame that he squirmed, closing his legs, hands flying to his face to hide himself, Suguru’s hand falling away.

“I don’t do that with patients.”

Satoru nodded. Obviously. He knew this study wasn't that fucked up. It was a university study after all.

But still, he couldn't stop his words, muffled by his palms. “What about non-patients?”

He couldn't see Suguru’s expression. He didn't want to. Because now he was opening himself up to rejection under the pretense of a joke.

“Satoru.” His name sounded more like a command, pulling all of his attention to the doctor. He let his hands slip, eyes finding Suguru’s. “If you understand what you’re asking—”

“I’m not fucking stupid—”

“No, just mouthy. Don’t interrupt.”

Oh. Satoru blushed, felt his cunt clench around nothing, missing those fingers, that expert touch pressing so deep inside. He swallowed, blinking wide eyes as he watched Suguru. “Gonna offer to make a house call?”

“That would interfere with the study.” Suguru’s voice was certain, if a little strained. As if the words were almost painful, his eyes shutting for a moment as he took a deep breath. “And due to,” the man's eyes looking to the side, as if searching for an answer to a question he wouldn’t voice. “Personal interest… I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

“Personal interest?” He sounded incredulous. Again, he chose to laugh it off. “Maybe I should just drop out.”

Suguru smiled.

It wasn’t his soft, disarming smile. It wasn’t paired with kind eyes or gentle hands. Because that hunger, that flit of soemthing else made itself known in the way his lips twitched, teeth flashing. Like a fucking predator.

“I can arrange that. If you drop out—” his lips spread, a glint of white teeth, a smile that spoke far more than he voiced. “The decisions you make outside of this office,” his words pointed, instructions clear. “If you were to seek outside care… Perhaps that might better suit your needs.”

Satoru sat up, realization setting in.

“Are you—” but he bit his lip, catching Suguru’s inability to speak freely. He had his morals or whatever. He wouldn’t fuck a patient, fine. But he was insinuating—no, he was fucking spelling it out for him. Satoru grinned, eager, bright. “Where might I find this outside care?”

“I’d be happy to refer you, after you formally un-enroll from the study. Before you do, why don’t we write you a treatment plan that you and… the other care provider can use?”

Satoru was nodding all too eagerly. But he didn’t care.

Because, for whatever reason, Suguru didn’t find him broken. Or gross. Or annoying.

Maybe he was the touch he’d been missing.

“Yeah sure—where do I sign?”