Sex in C Major

And when Stefan tried to avoid those things-tried to ask for anal more often, tried to use his mouth and hands more than his cunt, tried to wear heavier jumpers and jackets throughout the act-his own lust betrayed him, and the slick rush of want reminded him exactly what he was, every single time. It didn't work. And it only took away things he loved, so he went back. Only to question it the next time and try again.

Then April came.

Stefan's appointment with the consultant was the first Friday in April. In Sheffield.

Yannis was unable to come with him, due to an exam, so Daz took him instead. And Stefan could tell his master was trying to take his mind off it-they went up on Thursday night, had sex in the alleyway in the town centre again, and then Stefan was taken to the hotel, imprisoned in the room by having his clothes removed to the safe again, and quite bluntly-fucked into an exhausted sleep

It didn't work, though.

He was jittery the next morning. He woke up before the dawn, and was punished for disturbing Daz's sleep by being put into the chastity belt before being allowed to dress again. For the first time, Stefan simply didn't care. "What if he says I can't have them?" he breathed as Daz hailed a taxi outside the front lobby.

"Then we find another consultant," Daz said simply.

"But what if"

"Look," Daz interrupted. "I don't want you taking drugs you bought online. But I've been here with Yannis. And if it helps you more to have them than not, then...I'll allow it. Grudgingly."

Stefan swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat.

"Thank you," he croaked.

The taxi ride was short, but still too long. The hospital was busy, and somehow frightening. The consultant's office was in the diabetes clinic, and Stefan was twitching from the minute they walked in and sat down to wait. There was only one other patient there, who gave their joined hands a funny look.

And Stefan could barely breathe.

It was happening. It was really, really happening. It was-

"Miss Lenkowski?"

A shiver ran up Stefan's spine. Daz squeezed his hand.

The consultant was a thin, balding man with a nervous smile and a slightly greasy air to him. Stefan dragged on the icy demeanour Yannis had radiated in the doctor's surgery, and drew it round himself like a shield. Stood. Let go of Daz's hand.

Walked into the office alone.

"It's Mr Lenkowski," he said coldly, and felt his shoulders stiffen to match his voice.

"Ah, of course, my apologies..."

Stefan took a seat, and kept his back ramrod straight. He could do this. Yannis had done this

"Can you give me a bit of your history, Stefan?"

Stefan opened his mouth and lied.

He backtracked. The NHS liked those who'd always known, so he became one of them. They liked simple, dominant, straightforward masculinity, so he had no interest in pornography. He'd had a girlfriend in high school. He'd come out young. He'd been socially a man for years. Just no luck finding work. A lot of awkward GPs. An unsupportive mother. Hence it had taken some time to get here, you know? Hence he'd gotten desperate, you know?

"I won't stop taking the online stuff if you don't prescribe something else," he said frankly, in his best impression of Yannis.

The consultant's nervous look ramped up a little.

Stefan knew if Daz could hear him-hear him failing to mention his mother's heart problem, or his family history of breast cancer, hear him saying he'd never had anxiety or depression, hear him swearing blind he had no drug or alcohol issues then he would be punished.

But...

Stefan didn't care.

For the first time, he simply didn't care.

If he had to lie to get it, he would. If he had to gloss over details and reinvent himself, for this stranger who would never know better, then he would. He was already taking unprescribed drugs. What was lying to get the prescribed ones? And then the consultant said, "Do you have a preference for gels or injections?"

And Stefan's brain froze up.

"Does that mean you're going to prescribe it?"

"Yes."

The world flexed.

"Really?"

"Yes, Mr Lenkowski."

Stefan's heart was a drum in his ears. He barely heard his own reply. Saw a green piece of paper spewed from the printer. A leaflet added. Heard something about six months, about checks, about another letter.

The consultant stood up.

And just like that, not fifteen minutes after he'd gone in, Stefan was being shown back out. With a prescription in his hand.

And the first thing out of his mouth to Daz was, "I need a joint."

Daz rolled his eyes and plucked the prescription out of Stefan's hands. "No you don't. You need a celebratory shag. Maybe some cake. Come on, let's go back via a supermarket and get some cake." "Yannis doesn't like cake," Stefan said stupidly.