Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So you can’t sleep, huh?”

The office is a normal one. White light streaming in through gray blinds, uncomfortable vinyl chairs in the corner, wood-framed diplomas loudly declaring “I’m Legit!”. It is a totally regular clinic.

The doctor on the other hand…

Steve has seen a lot of doctors about this. He’s been seeing a lot of doctors about this. Doctors and psychiatrists and therapists and naturopaths and homeopaths and drug dealers and even a somnologist at a big fancy hospital with a two year waitlist.

He’s seen basically every psychiatrist that works in the city at this point. He’d started off with the best Richard Harrington’s insurance could afford. Has gone down the list as he gets more and more desperate. Most of them have been awful. Dismissive and unhelpful, touting the same shit he’s heard since he was eighteen. The last four have all been men in their goddamn seventies who tried to gruffly sell him on counting sheep. All. Four. Of. Them.

But he hasn’t seen a doctor like this.

For starters, the dude wasn’t geriatric. He couldn’t be more than a decade older than Steve, if that. And he had this stupid swagger to him. Sauntered into the room like he was a rockstar whose tour bus broke down outside the clinic. Like he’d just wandered in and decided to play psychiatrist for shits and giggles. His hair was in a low bun, likely for some delusional sense of civility. The frizzy locks were bursting out of the ponytail’s hold like someone had attempted to groom a mangy dog. Half the buttons on his shirt weren’t done up. There was a hole at the cuff. It had like, three very noticeable, very ominous stains on it.

And frankly, despite all that, he was also like, kinda way too hot to be a doctor? Steve was secure enough in his masculinity to admit that. Doctors that look like that shouldn’t be real doctors. They should be saying dumb shit like, “I’m not a Doctor, I just play one on TV.”

But he wasn’t saying any of that. Instead, Dr. Munson was already chicken-scratching at his file, saying dumb shit like, “You’ve taken Melatonin, Xanax, Diphenhydramine, Ambien, Valium, Ativan, Methamphetamine, Ketamine– Jesus Christ, you’re like a Petri dish of every bad decision I made in my twenties.”

When the chicken scratching was done, he tapped his pen against his clipboard then hopped onto the vinyl chair across from Steve. Cheshire grin and limbs traipsed loosely across the chair arms. Squirmed around in the seat for a while then planted his feet solid on the ground.

Comfortably sat, apparently, Munson leaned in, his elbows at his knees and fingers tenting in front of his lower face, focused and intense. Doe-eyed gaze that made Steve feel like the deer in headlights. He looked Steve up and down, nodded, then grinned impossibly wider with a waggled brow. “Well! Definitely looks like insomnia.”

Steve met his smile with a chuckle. He doesn’t need to be told how awful he looks. There had barely been a day in the last year where he didn’t go out on forty minutes of sleep, red-rimmed eyes and mud-purple bags that sat as a permanent fixture beneath them.

Not to mention he could barely think straight anymore. He’d almost secured a full-time job coaching at the elementary school in his district. Almost. But then the insomnia had him mumbling the same instructions to the sixth graders five times over and dropping glass coffee pots on the lacquered gym floor.

Now he did the monkey-with-a-typewriter work at his dad’s firm. It made him feel like something out of the 1950s, some kind of bimbo secretary who only got the job cause she had a great rack. Which was– he got the job cause his dad owned the company. It was different. Still, half the office treated him like it was ‘cause of his rack, talked to him like he was a thing to be ogled.

His dad’s underlings were especially bad. Jim and Larry were VP and CFO, respectively, and they acted like, well… He was their direct assistant by name but they mostly had other employees do the actual work. Steve was in charge of coffee runs, forwarding emails, writing memos, and smiling. Jim had a habit of gluing his hand to the small of Steve’s back when he caught up to him in the hall. Larry had a habit of asking Steve if he wanted to grab a drink after work, every single day, at least three times, “You’ve been working so hard, Harrington. You should really unwind.”

He was a total object to those old men. And sure, maybe if he swung that way he’d get the appeal. It could be kinda hot, conceptually, or whatever. Older men, his bosses, pissing off his dad. But even if he was hypothetically into that, which he wasn’t, it wouldn’t even matter. The insomnia had totally wiped his sex drive.

In all honesty, as easy as the work was, it was still too hard for him most days. He was irritable all the time. His brain couldn’t string the words together for the simplest of tasks. He could barely remember the coffee order by the time he got to the shop. Not to mention, the work wasn’t exactly his sector of smart. He was smart about people, smart about being charming, and uh like, how to be attractive or whatever. And basketball! He was smart about basketball. But he wasn’t smart about numbers and words and shit.

And fuck, now thinking was so hard. Thinking was too hard. Some days he could barely get a sentence together before everything went all blurry. He just really wanted to sleep. Good and proper rest. To not jolt awake a quarter-way into a REM cycle because his brain decided to play him a gunshot lullaby. He just wanted to sleep and not have to think.

It was the only pretty thought he had. Made that ever-present well of tears blur up his bleary eyes as he considered the doctor in front of him.

He kinda had to hand it to the guy. He was definitely off-kilter as far as quacks who have actual licenses go. Nothing was gonna beat the hippie chick Robin’s mom set him up with. Who’d have guessed standing in a cranberry marsh tripping on acid wasn’t gonna cure chronic insomnia?

In all honesty, it could be a good thing. He was young. Probably didn’t think like the barrage of derisive old men he’d been seeing. Probably was learning about new experimental methods like, two years ago instead of fifty.

Steve hums, “You don’t have a miracle drug up your sleeve right, Doc?”

The doctor snorts at that. “Ha! That would be nice, huh? Nah, all I got are the limits of modern medicine. But I can tell you something you’ve probably heard a million times already: the insomnia isn’t the disease. It’s a symptom. We need to get to the root of the problem. And then we can talk miracle drugs.”

Shit. Had he heard that before? He guessed he had, in so many words. For some reason the doctors always tried to obfuscate it a bit, hide it behind their proposed cures. But for him to say it so, like, out loud. So fast. He was different– maybe– maybe that meant something.

Munson claps a hand onto Steve’s bicep. “So let’s try to get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

Steve nearly jolts at the touch, but he catches it. Nods with a yawn, eyes tearing up even more. Okay, it was a bit weird that the doctor was like, touchy. But hey, again, he’s different. All the other psychiatrists had been stiff and pretty cold. Matter-of-fact. Here’s the drugs that now get your crazy ass out of my office. But Doctor Munson was warm from the get-go. It’s kinda nice. Reassuring even.

Munson’s hand lingers for a moment longer and then pulls back, readies his clipboard and chews on the end of his very gnawed on pen, “Do you know what caused the sleeplessness?”

Steve shrugged, he’d done this song and dance more times than he could count, “I just- I went through some bad stuff as a teen. It’s dead and buried but I got a hard reminder of it about a year ago. Anniversary that sat wrong, you know? And now I can’t shake it. Makes the whole sleep thing really hard to come by these days.”

Munson reached over to turn on a small radio, his pen teetering carelessly between his index and middle finger. But the radio’s not set to a proper station. It starts buzzing white noise, “You wanna tell me more about it?”

“Can’t.” Steve chuckled cold then yawned again. Doctor Munson leaned back down on his chair, he didn’t seem in any hurry to fix the radio. “Not unless you want a bunch of suits storming your parking lot in the next eight minutes.”

He was readying himself for a longer, exhausting spiel where Munson would inevitably think he was joking and then ask again and then Steve would repeat himself and then the doctor would ask him to please be more respectful of his time maybe then Steve would start to get testy and eventually after a lot of haranging the doctor would just finally drop it, thank fuck. But he’d hold the exchange over Steve for the rest of the appointment. Use it against him. Consider him defiant.

But Doctor Munson didn’t pry. He just eyed him curiously and waved his pen with a “Hm”.

Steve could feel the relief buzz out of his shoulders. He knew it. He knew Munson wasn’t like the others. He was weird. Like really weird. Maybe it should be concerning that he didn’t pry. Maybe Steve should be looking at those “I’m Legit!” degrees a little more closely. But at least he was right. Doctor Munson was different.

Steve followed the motion of Munson’s waving pen. All that energy he’d pent into the argument that never came kind of wiped him out. The tiredness always came at the worst time. He tried to focus on the quick movements. Steady motions always grounded him when the exhaustion took over. Kept him in the land of the living. The doctor flashed his teeth as he looked up from the clipboard, caught Steve’s flitting gaze, “And you’re already on what, 60mg of Prozac?”

“Yup.”

“Got it. Are you working out at all?”

“Trying to, yeah. I used to go to the gym like, twice a day. But with this whole sleep thing–”

Munson clicks his pen, “Not so much anymore?”

“Still about four or five times a week.”

The doctor hums, “That’s really good, Steve. Better than most. It’s a really effective way to properly exhaust yourself. Plus the hormones it releases, endorphins, testosterone, gonna keep you happy and healthy.”

Steve snorted, warm air in and out of his nostrils, “Not sure if it’s making that much of a difference.”

The doctor eyed him in a way that kind of made him want to squirm. “Oh, it makes a difference. Believe me.”

Munson tapped at his pen against the clipboard. Tap, tap, tap. Then he clicked his tongue, “How’s your libido?”

“Gone.” Steve admits. Tap, tap, tap.

“And how was it before?”

Steve blushes.

It’s not that he was like a slut, or anything. He just got around. And he loved sex. And he was really good at it. And he loved making other people feel good. And he loved feeling good, being desired. And he used to be horny all the time. Fuck. He missed sex.

“Um,” He coughs, “Above average.”

“Are you still able to, you know–” Dr. Munson grinned wide at him and jerked his fist lewdly.

Seriously, did this guy have a license? He’d have to check properly on the way out. Steve raised a brow. “N– no. Not really. I can’t exactly, uh. With the– It just doesn’t work that well.”

“That’s too bad. You know Steve, the Oxytocin that your body releases post-orgasm is one the most effective natural destressors. Knocks a lot of guys right out. You ever stuck a few fingers up the old keester?”

What the actual fuck? “No?”

Munson waggled a brow. “You should give it a try sometime.” Tap, tap, tap. “I’ve gotten a lotta patients who it really helped.” He flicked his tongue between his teeth and winked. “Figured some things out about themselves too.”

Jesus, this guy. Maybe different didn’t actually mean good. Maybe it just meant wacko.

“You’re– you’re not serious?” Steve mumbled. Dr. Munson just treaded on, ignoring the question.

“Hm. So you can’t trick your body and you can’t fix your brain. Quite the puzzle there, Stevie.” He taps away at his pen. Tap, tap, tap. The radio was buzzing a little louder now. “I can think of one possible solution.”

“What’s that?”

Doctor Munson shrugs. “We trick your subconscious.”

Ha! Nope!

Guess different definitely meant wacko. Serves him right for blazing through all the city’s legit psychiatrists in one fell swoop. Munson may be like, nicer, than the others but no way he was subjecting himself to that shit again.

“Sure. It’s a pseu–“ he yawns. “A pseu–” God, he was really tired. There was a couch in the office. Dr Munson might be a little off-colour but like, maybe if he didn’t have any patients after this, he might let him take a nap. What was he saying again? Oh yeah, “–It's a pseudoscience but sure.”

The doctor snickers, eyes shining. He had really nice eyes. Like, objectively. “Ooo testy, there Stevie. The old hypnosis not your cup of tea?”

He remembers sitting in a gray old man office. Watching some stupid flickering video. Listen to some Australian lady whisper in his ear about breathing. This awful backtrack of frog drums. Thirty minutes straight pretending he could focus on anything besides the dull buzz in his skull.

When didn’t that work, obviously, the doctor wheeled out some kind of Edwardian torture device. Big clamps would hold Steve’s eyelids open– force him to watch the screen. He’d beelined it the fuck out of there.

Steve shudders, “Not at all.”

The radio buzzed louder. Munson tapped his pen and eyed him curiously. His gaze was stupid intense, “Who did it? Brenner?”

Shit, yeah. It was Brenner. He was one of the weirder psychiatrists Steve had seen. Didn’t hold a candle to Doctor Munson, but still, Steve had felt like a total idiot afterward for going along with his bullshit methods. Brenner was deceivingly uptight, way more experimental than most of the other doctors. They’d tried a few things. A more controlled acid trip than the swamp lady. A single attempt at ECT. And yeah, the “hypnotism”. Straight out of Clockwork goddamn Orange.

Steve pursed his lips. Gave a quick nod.

Doctor Munson leans in, “I’ll be honest. Between you and me, Stevie: Brenner doesn’t know shit about fuck.”

Steve turtled his neck out and rolled his eyes. Duh. “Yeah, I got that.”

The doctor snickered, slapped playfully at his knee. “Gotcha cranky-pants.” He clicked his tongue again and tapped at the clipboard. Tap, tap, tap. “Brenner’s a total hack, so I’m not surprised it didn’t take. That said, do you think that maybe you just weren’t open to it at the time?”

That was the worst part. He was open to it at the time. He was open to literally anything that would make his noisy-ass brain quiet down enough to get some zzzs. But hypnotism was bullshit. It was an orientation week gag where a man in a top hat convinced a bunch of attention seeking freshmen to act like idiots. As though that was some kind of feat.

“I mean I don’t want to be forced to dance around like a chicken.”

Munson laughs again, reaches his hand back across to rub at Steve’s arm, his stare thick like he’s letting him in on a secret. The touch is warm, calming.

“That’s a common misconception, Steve. No one can hypnotize you unless you want to be hypnotized. Even when you’re in a trance state, you can’t do anything you wouldn’t be open to when you’re conscious. It’s an effective method to get in touch with your subconscious desires, but they have to exist in the first place, they can’t just be pulled out of thin air. Think about it like being drunk. Still yourself, but a bit more inhibited, a bit more suggestible.”

Hm. Okay on second thought, maybe he hadn’t been all that open to it the first time around. Sleep was important, yeah. But he couldn’t just let his guard down. Not after what happened. People could get hurt. They could die. They had died.

And Brenner just felt like one of them. One the suits. Those heartless assholes that swept Barb’s death under the rug like she’d been no one. Didn’t even count as collateral. He could never relax around a guy like Brenner.

Munson on the other hand... Sure, the guy was weird. Kind of a freak, really. He was the kind of guy Steve’s friends would’ve kicked into lockers in high school. But he sorta just trusted him, weirdly. Felt comfortable around him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was his eyes, so big and brown and open. Brenner’d had beady little mouse eyes, Steve never wanted to look at him straight. Looking at Doctor Munson was easy.

Steve scratched the back of his neck, “That– that makes sense.”

The doctor tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and clicked his tongue. “But hey, listen– just because we try it out doesn’t mean it’s the only possible solution. I know this has been a frustrating process for you. I don’t want you having to keep knocking around from quack to quack with nothing to show for it, Steve. If this doesn’t work I got like ten, twenty more things we could try. But I also got a metric fuckton FDA-approved nonsense stored up here,” he tapped at his temple with a smile. Tap, tap, tap. “And I think this could genuinely work. I really think we can fix this. Finally put it all to rest. Ha! You know– like. To rest. Rest. Heh.”

Munson is grinning like an idiot. Big browns blinking mischievously. God, he’s about to agree to this, isn’t he?

He rubs at his red-rimmed eyes, pats his palms at his cheeks, then groans, “Okay. Fine. Yup.”

The grin tugs wider at the edge of Doctor Munson’s lips, “Yeah?”

Steve shakes his head. It’s a Hail Mary. He knows that. He’ll probably leave Dr. Munson’s care just the same as all the others, not able to think straight, brain still a pile of goo. But he’s been so tired for so long. And Munson’s so different from the rest of them. So maybe, just maybe…

“Yeah. Sure.” He says with a wave of his hand, “Hypnotize me.”

Munson clicks his tongue, starts up from his seat, buzzing frenetic around the small office, mouth a mile a minute, “Atta-boy Steve-O! You know I’m real glad you’re being so open-minded. I think we could really do some great work here! I’ll grab you a few waivers, okay? Homework to fill out for next time. Let’s keep this thing above board, right?”

Uh… “R-right?” Steve stutters it into a yawn. Was the doctor doing a lot of things uh, below board? Or shoot, was that supposed to be rhetorical? Jeez, he was exhausted. He was never good at telling what was supposed to be a joke when his mind was all mush like this.

“Shit– you seem pretty tired, dude.” Munson squinted at him from where he was crouched by his desk. His tongue stuck to his upper lip, goofily concentrated, pulling scattered papers out of a drawer. The guy was such a mess. It was endearing, really. “You wanna crash on the couch? You’re the last of my day and I’ve still got a lot of paperwork to do.”

Woah, it’s like he read his mind. But now that the option was there, Steve could feel that delicate bit of exhaustion slip through his fingers. Just like it always did when the prospect of actual fuckin’ sleep became plausible. Plus he didn’t want to like, burden a guy he barely knew.

Steve yawns again, “Nah, nah, I’ll make it home.”

Munson frowns, shuffling the forms into a neat-ish pile. “For sure. Just know the option is always there. Gotta take advantage of these things when they’re in front you. Can’t let ‘em slip through the cracks!” Tap, tap, tap.

The doctor makes his way back over to Steve, hands the waivers to him in a quick brush of fingers. Steve jumps at the touch, can't help it this time. Can’t remember the last time someone touched his bare skin. Just goes to show how desperately he needed to fix this. So wired up that anyone, even his fucking doctor touching him was making him feel a certain kind of way.

Munson taps his pen against his clipboard, bright sort of glint in his eye. Tap, tap, tap, “Oh, I almost forgot! One last thing you gotta do before we finish up here, Steve.”

Steve yawns again, tiredness coming back in like the tides. The radio is buzzing so loud. God, maybe he should take a nap here. He cranes his neck to look up at the doctor. Munson was hovering in his space, one hand on the back of his chair. His hair was haloed warm brown by the light behind. He looked nice. Kinda like an angel. “What’s that?”

Doctor Munson clicked his tongue and smiled down at Steve, wide and encouraging. He tapped his pen against the seat. Tap, tap, tap.

“Well Stevie, you gotta sleep.”

———

“Where are you right now, baby?”

Baby. It’d been so long since anyone called him that. He loved being called it. And Doctor Munson said it so sweet.

Where was he? He blinks around, blue neon beaming out from all around him. He was. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

He hears his voice shake. “I’m in the bunker under the mall.”

There’s a thought that flits absently somewhere in the space above him, something like, he shouldn’t be telling someone this. But it’s such a silly thought. Doctor Munson asked. Why shouldn’t Steve tell him? He’s the professional after all.

“You’re in a bunker under the mall?” The doctor repeats slow and precise. He has such a nice, deep voice.

It’s different than it normally is. He feels safer, with Doctor Munson there too. The others move like holograms. Still, he can taste the rank breath of the Soviet enforcer.

“Yes.” Steve blinks, “They have me tied to a chair. The Russians. They are torturing me.”

“Oh.” Munson breathes, eyes dark. “Torturing you in what way?”

The enforcer is grabbing his pliers now. “Punching my face in. Trying to rip off my finger nails.”

“Ha!” Doctor Munson flicks his tongue out then hums. “Not what I would’ve done with you.”

Steve blinks again, “Wha–” The noise is drawled and sleepy.

“Would’ve gotten you out of there, Sweetheart.” The doctor reassures with a click of his tongue, bringing a hand to Steve’s cheek. Somehow, in the haze, Steve gets the sense that that’s not quite true. “Now tell me baby, why are they torturing you?”

The enforcer is hovering behind Doctor Munson, wearing his snide yellow-toothed grin. God, that guy fucking sucks. Why was he torturing him again? Steve furrows a brow, “Dumbass genius I babysat cracked their code. Begged me to help him find the secret Russian base. Like we were in Red fuckin’ Dawn. We all got roped into it. Me, and my two coworkers and two of the kids I babysit. All got trapped in their freaky below ground elevator.”

He pats Steve’s cheek. It’s so nice and warm against his skin. He feels himself leaning into the touch, nuzzling against the calloused fingers. Doctor Munson seems really giddy, “God the attitude on you, even when you’re under. How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

“I dunno.” Steve retorts. He sounds kinda slurred, “All the other guys were total crap at their job?”

“Ha!” Doctor Munson’s eyes were shining again, bright and mischievous. God, they were pretty. Doctor Munson was so hot. Hot, rockstar doctor. “I oughta send ‘em a thank you note, huh? Letting you slip through the cracks like that. Hm, maybe a thank you service. Depending on how well this goes right, baby?”

“A– a service…” Steve blinks “Like a massage?” It was so funny to think about all those uptight stooges lying down for a massage.

“Well, doll, kinda like a massage.”

Kinda like a massage? Did… did doctors buy each other like… like… Happy endings? The medical community was so strange.

The doctor kneels down between his legs, lifts Steve’s chin with his fingers. “Now, tell me how you got out, baby.”

“Not all of us– not all of us did. Got caught almost as soon as we got off the elevator. The kids managed to get away, hide. But the Russians… They got me and Rob and Barb. And they– they–”

“–They tortured you?” Dr. Munson’s eyes are impossibly big. They’re flying saucers. They make the scene around him feel so far away. Like the doctor beamed him out of that awful bunker. Was keeping him safe between his thumb and his index.

“Yeah. And they…” Steve trails off. Even in the haze, it was so hard to say.

“And they what, baby?” the doctor lifts his left hand to Steve’s face, thumbing gentle at the dark circles. They were wet. Steve didn’t know he was crying.

He just whimpers.

“C’mon, doll.” The doctor’s other hand is raised now too, palm cupping at the hollow of Steve’s cheek. He clicks his tongue. “You gotta tell me what happened. It’s the only way we’re gonna get you to bed, baby.”

He feels so secure. Held like this. Only the doctor in his sightline. Like Doctor Munson is the only thing in the world. Still, he hears his voice tremble. “She– she caught a stray bullet. While we were escaping. Barbara. We were so close to getting out of there but she was getting caught behind and I was trying to protect the kids and– and– she caught a stray bullet.”

He begins to sob in full now. Crocodile tears blurring his view. They fall on the doctor’s hands, trace his fingers like rain on a window, pool heavy at the bottom of his chin. “I– I see h–her every time I cl–close my eyes.”

Doctor Munson takes one of his hands away. Steve can feel how wet his cheek is. He must be so ugly and red. The doctor is pulling away because he thinks so. He hates being ugly. He hates that the insomnia is making him ugly. Making him pale and gaunt and unloveable. He just wants to be loved.

But then the doctor brings a cloth up to Steve’s wet cheek, wipes away the salt. The touch is so gentle that it’s almost confusing. “Aw beautiful, it’s okay.” Beautiful. The doctor doesn’t think he’s ugly! He thinks he’s– he’s– Steve lets out another sob. “Hey, hey. Let’s save those pretty tears for something more fun, yeah? Thank you for telling me all that, Sweetheart.”

Steve sniffles.

Doctor Munson clicks his tongue, “You’re not in the bunker anymore.”

As he says it, the blinking neon of the dank chamber seems to dissipate. Steve blinks and he’s right back in Doctor Munson’s office, sitting upright on the plush green sofa. It’s darker now than it had been earlier. The blinds are shuttered closed and a warm orange light emits from the lamp in the corner. Everything feels aglow, cozy. So opposite to the harsh steel of the bunker. The doctor looks so handsome in this light, though the details of him are hazy. Everything is hazy.

He’s still safe in the doctor’s hands, his thumbs are still tracing circles at Steve’s upper cheeks. “Beautiful. You did such a good job, sweetheart. Gone for me in record time. So open with me. So easy. Gonna make it all better now, yeah?”

Their faces are so close. It’s almost like they’re going to kiss. But Steve knows he can’t kiss his doctor. That’d be so unprofessional. Doctor Munson would have to refer him to someone else. And Steve wants to stay here, in his hands.

“H-how?”

“Well baby, you’re not gonna remember this when you wake up, will you?” The doctor clicks his tongue and nods Steve’s head for him. He smiles as he does it. It is so nice letting him take control, not having to worry about thinking of answers. It was just so much work.

“I– I won’t?”

“No you won’t, baby. But you’re gonna wake up feeling so relaxed. Best sleep of your life. You’re gonna be so glad you decided to take up my offer of napping on the couch.”

That makes sense. He had been so tired by the end of the appointment. The doctor’s couch seemed so nice and soft. He was happy he decided to sleep there. Now he was in this lovely dream.

“But you’re gonna forget all about this conversation. All that stuff with those pinkos is gonna feel like a distant, far off memory. Instead of thinking about Barbara when you drift off, you’re gonna think about my hands.”

Wow. That seemed amazing. He hated thinking about the commies. And Barb. It was all so scary and sad. It would be so nice to focus on something that feels good. To be finally able to sleep. “Mm. Really like your hands.”

Doctor Munson lets out a snort. “Jesus baby, you are just perfect, huh?” Steve wants to laugh. He feels so happy. “So glad you like my hands, sweetheart. That’s all you’re gonna remember from this dream. How good my hand feels on your cheek, on your bare skin. Doesn’t my touch feel good, sweetheart?”

The doctor pats soft at his cheek. Steve nuzzles into it, radiates at the caress.

“Mmm. Feels so good.” He affirms. But the noise comes out like more of a moan. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he senses how choked-off and embarrassing the sound is. But he can’t help it. It does. It feels so good.

But then Doctor Munson takes one of his hands off Steve’s cheek. He hears himself whine at the loss of contact. The doctor inhales sharp through his nose, “God, you are just so needy.”

It wasn’t Steve’s fault. He knew he was needy. It was built in. Just like the way some people can fill their brains up with facts and figures. He needed to be filled up with love. With affection. Needed more than anyone else he knew. He was a fish in the desert without it, burning in the sun, unable to breathe.

The doctor’s hand settles on Steve’s lower thigh. It’s not as nice. There’s denim between them, too thick. Still, it’s something. He’s looking Steve dead in the eye. It’s almost like he can see through him– or really, like he can see in him, all his silly little thoughts and hopes and dreams.

He tilts his head, clicks his tongue with an impish grin. “Oh! And one more thing baby.” His voice is lilting, high and playful. Kinda like it was during their appointment. “You’re gonna do a little exploring tonight.”

“Exploring?” He's so confused. He doesn’t want to have to, like, go out in the woods or something. He just wants to sleep.

“‘Course beautiful, cause all those bad bad memories might be locked away but you still won’t be able to sleep, will you?” The doctor is tracing little circles along his inner thigh. It feels really nice. Sends little bits of electricity all through his body. Makes him wonder how his fingers would feel on his bare skin. “–Not until you cum.”

What? Steve blinks. “Until I.. I cum?”

The doctor chuckles, shakes his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Steve’s never been all that quick. “You gotta release some Oxytocin or you’ll never be able to sleep, doll.”

Oh yeah. That makes sense. The circles on his thigh feel so good, “Really?”

He shrugs his shoulders, brown eyes twinkling, “Baby, it’s the only way.”

But wait, no. He– his dick won’t get hard. Not until he sleeps. No, no, no. He’s stuck. Just like he always is. He’s stuck and he’s broken and he feels like he’s gonna cry again, “But– but. I can’t. It– it doesn’t–”

“I know sweetheart. I know.” Doctor Munson clicks his tongue, still stroking so feather-light at his cheek. He hums at the touch. He may be broken, but he doesn’t feel it in the doctor’s hold. “Luckily, there is another way.”

Steve is so relieved. He wants to sleep so bad. If he sleeps then he can rest. Then he can be beautiful and he can be loved. “There... There is?”

“Yeah, baby,” Munson breathes. His eyes are so dark now and his hand is moving higher and higher up Steve’s thigh. It lands just below his crotch. Steve parts his lips as the doctor gives the flesh a sharp squeeze. It feels so good. “You got that pretty pink asshole you can fuck.”

Steve blinks.

No. He wouldn’t. That’s not.. right? He doesn’t– he wouldn’t.

What is this dream?

He wants to wake up. Can he wake up? Steve blinks again. The office looks sharper around him. The radio is buzzing, still, louder than ever. He can see the depth of Munson’s smile lines, stark in the orange light. All the little marks on his face. Their faces were so close, holy shit. Why were their faces so close? Why was he touching him?

Munson clicks his tongue. Steve feels his eyes bulge in panic. His voice almost sounds like it’s his, “I don’t want to– Wait I– I don’t want to do that.”

Munson’s face twists mean. He clicks again sharp. Taps his pen against his clipboard. Tap, tap, tap.

Click.

Tap, tap, tap.

Click.

Tap, tap, tap.

Click.

Tap, tap, tap.

The worry dissipates, tension untwists in his bones.

The haze is settling in again. Everything is amber and gleaming. The doctor puts a soft hand back on his cheek. Steve hums happily into it. It’s so strange. He’d been panicking. Why would he have been panicking? He feels so safe here with the doctor. So good and beautiful.

The doctor smiles so bright at him and Steve just basks in it. His tone is honey-warm, “Oh Stevie, you want to sleep don’t you, baby?”

He does want to sleep. More than anything. He could sleep right here. In the doctor’s hands. “Yeah…”

“I bet.” The doctor hums, clicks his tongue. He’s raising his hand higher up his thigh. Up, up, up. “You wanna sleep so bad.”

Steve whines. He does want to sleep. But the way the doctor is touching him… He wants– he wants more than just sleep.

“But you can’t sleep till you cum.” The doctor wasn’t at his thigh anymore. He’d lifted his hand away. Steve misses the friction like air. Doctor Munson’s head is tilted, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Then, he lowered his hand right back down. Rubbing higher than he had before. Above his thigh. He was– he was palming at Steve’s cock. Yes, yes, yes. Cupping him over the denim. Stroking steady through the layers and layers of fabric.

Steve bucked into the touch. He couldn’t help it. It was so good. It was all electric. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.

The doctor just smirked, gave him a rough squeeze through his jeans, “–And your poor dick can’t get hard all on its own, can it, baby?” He had never felt so good. But his dick… his dick was still so soft.

“N–no.” Steve feels like he has to cry again. He wants the doctor to never stop touching him, “It– It can’t.”

The doctor hums, contemplative, head still quirked to the side, still rubbing so good at his needy, broken dick, “So how are you gonna fuck yourself?”

Steve thought really hard about it. Thinking was so hard. Especially right now– orgasm building up in him with no way out. He needed release. Release and then sleep. But what could he do? His dick was broken.

The doctor ground his palm into the base of cock. It made him whine so loud he barely recognized it. It was high and breathy, like a girl’s. Fuck. He wanted to cum so bad.

He tried to think.

One time, in middle school, he and his friend, Tommy decided to watch gay porn. Like as a joke, or whatever.

And it was a joke. It was. But Steve was so entranced. Watching the fingers go in and out, swallowed up by that tight little hole, tight like a pussy. And it was a hole that he had. That he could push his own fingers into. The guy in it was so hot too. Made it seem like fucking yourself on your fingers felt even better than fucking into a warm mouth or a soaking pussy. But Tommy had just loud-mouthed the video the whole time. Went on and on about how “fucking disgusting” it was. How gross and unnatural. And Steve said so too. Repeated it over and over again until he believed it.

He thought about the guy now. Fucking himself so good. The way his lip curled, the way he moaned so loud– like it felt amazing. He could– he could probably cum like that too, right? He could probably cum really hard just from his fingers.

“With my– my fingers?”

Doctor Munson smiled so big. “That’s right, baby. So smart.”

Yes! He knew it!

The doctor stroked at his cheek. Their faces were so close together, their noses were almost touching. His eyes were so big and dark. Steve loved staring at them. He wanted to stare at them forever. The doctor clicked his tongue. “With your fingers. Gonna stretch yourself open nice and wide and fuck yourself on your fingers.”

He pushed a thumb into the plush of Steve’s lower lip, dragged it down to his chin. It made Steve feel so nice and pliable. And all his words sounded so good. “Gonna cum better than you have in your whole life- fucking yourself on your fingers. And then guess what, baby?”

Steve felt his breath hitch. He wanted to lick the doctor’s thumb. He was so excited to fuck himself. “What?”

“Then you’re gonna sleep like a dream.”

Chapter Text

“Steve-o! Good to see you again. Come on in. Ready to enter the land of the subconscious mind?”

The office is still quiet this time of morning, dead empty besides the gum-chewing receptionist. He’s the first appointment of the day.

Steve leaves an embarrassingly sticky patch of sweat on the waiting room chair as he gets up, follows Doctor Munson down the long corridor to his office on the far end of the clinic. He’d only been ten minutes late in the end, but he’d been panicking since he woke up. He had quite literally run here. It’d been forever since he’d overslept.

The blinds in the doctor’s office were half-shuttered, early winter sunrise still streaming in. The orange light glowing over the wooden desk, the taupe couch, shakes at something in Steve’s brain. It’s not something he can place. He shudders it off, takes a seat at the hard plastic chair. Munson pulls the other out, sits on it backward like a punk kid.

Munson is, well, more put together today. If that's the right term for it. He definitely didn’t even try to look like a doctor. Ripped jeans, threadbare black tee, curls hanging loose and wild, he comes off more like he’s a drum tech touring with a death rock band. It’s strange. Everything with Doctor Munson is strange. But, well, it’s a good look. It suits him. Chicks would dig it.

“So…” Munson says it with a high-pitch affect, leans in like they’re gossipping. “How’s your week been, dude! You look great, man. Like you actually got some sleep.”

“I actually... Have been sleeping a bit better this week.” Steve coughs, tries not to choke on it. He’s his doctor. He’s gonna have to tell him. “Took your advice actually.”

“Oh?”

Steve plays it cool, leans back and shrugs, swoops two fingers in the air.

Doctor Munson looks faux-scandalized, hand over his gaped mouth. “Why Mr. Harrington!”

“It’s uh, not that bad actually.” Steve continues, blushing. “Kinda nice once you get the hang of it.”

“Like I said,” The doctor grins, “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Yeah, um.” Steve mutters, his calm, cool facade starting to crumble, “I’m feeling uh–”

Munson must sense the anxiety crawling up his throat because he taps at his arm, gives it a bit of a rub. “Hey.” he says, brown eyes steady, “I’m really glad. It’s nothing to be ashamed of Steve. It’s totally natural. Whatever works.”

Steve kind of um, melts, at the touch. Which is. Weird. He doesn’t know why that happens. Maybe his mind’s scrambled, like, the other way cause he actually got some proper sleep. “Yeah.” Steve blinks. His brain is totally error-coding. “Yeah. Right.”

“So, Harrington. You ready to get hypnotized?” He adds a stupid, dramatic emphasis to it, bulges his eyes and pretends to shoot like, lightning or something out of his fingers.

Steve just shakes his head and snorts. It’s so stupid but it’s winning him over. “Sure. Yeah.”

The thing was, he kind of wasn’t ready at all. He’s been freaking out about it all week. Like obviously, nothing will even happen. He’s only going along with this cause Dr. Munson seems to be pretty convinced about it. But if it does work. If it’s not just Hollywood bullshit…

“Well, you’re halfway through this race, let’s get you to finish, huh?”

“The finish.” Steve corrects.

“What?”

“The finish. Or like “the finish line.” “Let’s get you across the finish line.” That’s how that phrase goes.”

Munson blinks at him. “Steve.”

“Sorry. You just said it weird, man.” Steve scratches the back of his head. “And uh. I’m, I’m nervous.”

“Hey, hey.” The doctor’s voice, his whole demeanor, really, softens, “It’s good. I get it. It feels like, mind altering right?”

Steve nods. “It’s just not easy for a guy like me– giving up control like that. Like… That’s my mind. My like, soul and shit.”

The doctor just hums, “Psychiatry’s a tough biz. Doctors in the other medical fields don’t have to worry about their patients getting attached to say, their cancer, right? Least not normally.” he lets out a laugh, “Not unless their patient’s got a really weird kink. But brain stuff, Stevie? That’s tough. People forget who they were without the depression, the mania,”

He waves a hand in Steve’s direction. “The insomnia. It’s a parasite they think is a part of them. But Steve. It’s not. It’s just a bug.”

Steve wants to say he knows that. He wants his insomnia gone more than anything. It’s not what he’s anxious about. It’s the hypnotism. Obviously it’s the hypnotism. What are the odds Munson’s some kind of creep Svengali? That he’ll control his mind, make him do all his yard work or something? He hates doing yard work. But he can’t like, Jedi mind trick him, right? Not in the real world. That’s what he said last week, you can’t do anything you wouldn’t be open to when you’re conscious. But still. He won’t be in control of body right? What if something bad happens while he’s under? What if there’s a code-red and no one can reach him. What if–

Doctor Munson’s hand is warm over his. Woah. Steve’s anxieties– they feel so stupid and far away. The doctor leans in. His eyes are devastatingly sincere, “Hey. It’s just a bug.”

It makes Steve lightheaded when Munson leans back, pulls his hand away.

He considers him carefully, then claps, “Okay b–Stevie, before we start, is there anything else you want me to know? Anything you specifically want to get out of this session?”

He’s not sure why he’s feeling so open, so vulnerable. Not sure what about this place, this guy, really, that brings it out in him, makes him feel totally bare. “I’m just, I'm sick of feeling anxious all the time. Sick of feeling like everyone I love is always in danger. I don’t even know why I feel that way. I just do. And it, I dunno, it really sucks. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to think at all.”

Something strange flicks behind the doctor’s eyes. Something dark. Just for a moment, barely half a second. Steve almost feels like he imagined it. Because he blinks and the doctor’s rubbing his hands together, big and cartoonish. He’s snapping, clicking his tongue, grinning, “You got it, Steve-O! Hakuna Matata special, coming right up.”

—

Munson had a better setup than Brenner. He’ll give him that.

Steve’s sat in the small closet in the back of his office. The chair is comfortable, soft puffy black leather, the kind his dad always had in his home office. Instead of a screen, the flickering image was projected onto the wall. The doctor was hanging back, perched on a stool behind him to better control the visuals. He’d thrown a pair of plastic headphones onto Steve’s head, the cheap velour type they give out on planes. (“Static.” Munson had said, “It helps.”)

But it’s been 20 minutes.

He should be in a trance state. He knows because the lady in his ear (British, this time) keeps throwing self-help mottos at him. Your confidence flows from within, she’s saying. You can overcome the traumas of your past. You are not your worst mistakes. Etc., etc., etc. Steve’s not really sure what any of it has to do with his insomnia, but at this point he’s stopped asking questions.

Each day, you feel more and more relaxed and–

The light flicks on with a click.

“Wait, wait. Steve, do you mind if we stop?”

Oh thank fuck. “No, not at all.”

Munson turns the chair around. There’s like, no room in the closet so Steve’s kinda at eye-level with his groin. The doctor slips the cheap, airplane headphones off of Steve’s head. Munson’s got that radio from last time buzzing white noise again. Steve has no idea how he can play that thing so loud. It’s like, super distracting.

“Ah– not workin’ eh?” The doctor pulls the little black stool he’d been sitting on closer, takes a seat.

Steve whistles through his teeth, “No, I'm sorry. I’m really trying to be open-minded here. I am!”

“Hey, hey. That’s okay. Like I said last time. I got a lotta other ideas about how to calm you down, relax you, help you get some real shut-eye.” Doctor Munson clicks his tongue and taps his clipboard three times. Huh, he’d done that a lot the last session. He hadn’t done it all this session. Probably was a nervous habit. He gets it. He bites his nails sometimes.

Steve shakes his head. “I know you wanted it to work. I guess I’m just un-hypnotizable.”

The doctor clicks his tongue again and grins. He talks quick, “Yeah– maybe! But hey, no harm no foul. I get it. Plus all this shit.” He jesters at the room, the still-flickering projector, the discarded headphones, “It all feels a little extraneous, right?

“Um.” Extraneous? “What do you mean, Doctor Munson?”

“Pfft. Doctor Munson? Doctor Munson is my– well. It’s definitely not my father’s name. But c’mon Steve we’re friends, right? Call me Eddie.”

“Okay Eddie.” Steve chuckles, lets himself roll his eyes a little. “Sure. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah you know! The ‘ol song and dance! You are getting sleepy, very very sleepy. “ Munson does a terrible Count Dracula and swings his pen like it’s a pocket watch then taps it against Steve’s chair. Tap, tap, tap.

“Oh. “ Steve snorts with a shrug, deadpans, “That’s why you’re not in show business.”

The doctor gasps, clutches a hand over his heart, makes like he’s dying. “Steve Harrington!” He yelps, nearly knocking his stool over. “You wound me.”

Steve just laughs, shakes his head. Impressions weren’t his forte but the guy could totally make it as a mime. The doctor’s laughing too, expressive as ever.

When it peters out, Munson quirks his chin, considers Steve for a long, long while. His eyes are twinkling bright. It’s intimate, the silence that’s fallen between them. Makes Steve almost forget where he is. Almost makes him feel like they’re–

Eddie puts a strong hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve’s not sure why he does it. Well, not entirely sure. It’s– it’s weird. Or it should be. But it totally washes over him. Makes him feel pliant. Makes him way more relaxed than the stupid hypnosis video. Makes something warm pool at his gut.

The doctor licks his lips then clicks his tongue. “Sleep for me, beautiful.”

—

“So how was it, baby?” His doctor is giddy today, stray curls bouncing everywhere. “How was fucking yourself?”

Good. Steve thinks. It was so good. Weird at first– the sensation of it. And dry. He had to use so much more lube than he thought he might. But once he found his rhythm, once he found that spot that made his whole body seize. God, it was addictive. Watching the cum spurting out of his still-soft dick, world fading to black, all sleep and pleasure.

So he says as much, though his tongue feels so heavy in his mouth. “–Ws am’zin’. W’nna do it all th-e t’me.”

His doctor lets out a laugh, stark and sharp. “Aw baby, I’m so glad. And you slept right after, yeah? You think about those big mean commies at all?”

Steve scrunches his nose. Furrows a brow. The doctor asked such confusing questions sometimes. This one kinda was making his heart feel tight, “The– the c’mmies… Wh‘re the–”

Doctor Munson runs a sure, steady hand through his hair, calms down all that strange tension around his chest, “No one baby. No one. But you slept good?”

Mm. his tongue was getting better now, with the doctor carding through his hair, but everything just felt so droopy. Like he was a puddle on the ground, “Slept so good.”

Doctor Munson pats his cheek, strokes it with his thumb. Steve just melts, deeper and deeper into the floor. “What did you think about as you were fingering yourself?”

He hears a sound come out of his throat. A purr, maybe? He wants to live like water in Doctor Munson’s palms, “Thought about you. Thought about this.”

The doctor seems to like his response, dimple indenting itself at the edge of his smile lines. He presses two fingers into the plush of Steve’s bottom lip, drags it to his chin like he’s inspecting Steve’s teeth.

Steve closes his mouth around the digits.

Does it before he gets the chance to think about it. He can’t help it. The calloused fingers, salted and heavy, taste so amazing on his tongue. He pushes his mouth forward, sucks around the length of them. Feels so much easier to do this than try and answer all of his questions. Maybe he’d be able to sense Steve’s answers through his tongue. He’s looking at him through heavy lids.

“You ever sucked cock, Stevie?”

The doctor says it is breathy and low. He’s pumping his fingers in and out of Steve’s mouth, pushing at his melting tongue. Steve wishes he would just keep them inside. They feel so good in him. He kinda wants them as far as they’ll go. He wants them down his throat.

Steve drools around his index, letting his tongue flick and trace along the pads. He lets out a sad little noise, “No.”

Doctor Munson seems amused by that, shoots him that low, impish smile as he pulls his fingers out, “You ever wanted to suck cock?”

“Yeah.” Steve breathes. It comes out more like a whine.

He probably could’ve given the answer more thought. But it feels so obvious. He’s been thinking about it a lot, since last week, since meeting Doctor Munson. He’s always loved giving oral. Loved when girls would get rough with him, fishhook their fingers and stretch out his cheeks as they rode him. Loved having the doctor’s long fingers in his mouth, for that blissful minute. He feels so empty all the sudden, without them. With nothing thick to suck on.

“Wanna suck yours.”

Dr. Munson puts his warm lovely hand back against Steve’s cheek. It’s wet with his own slobber, “That’s very sweet of you, baby. I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Steve hums happy against the touch. He wonders if it would taste like his fingers. He wonders if he could get him down all the way, get to bury his nose in his thick pubes.

The doctor gets a strange sort of look on his face. Then he quirks a brow. “Anyone else?”

Was there? Steve thought for a moment. He’d been so fixated on Doctor Munson this week. The world felt so dim without his hands. He just went through the motions. The gym. Work. The gym. Work. And oh. Oh yeah.

Steve hears himself say, “Some of the guys from the gym. My bosses at work.”

Jim and Larry were all over him this week, drooling like dogs. He thinks it's ‘cause his hair finally perked up, ‘cause he wasn’t a total zombie. Sometimes he’s embarrassed for them, how desperate they are. But it feels good, so good, to know he brings that out in them. Steve blushes and laughs, “They want me so bad.”

His doctor does that shocked-throat laugh again, pulls a loose strand of hair into his mouth. “God, Sweetheart. You are just a gift-wrapped little lamb, huh?”

“Mmhm,” Steve hums. He’s not sure why he agrees. He didn’t even know what Doctor Munson meant by that. But agreeing with him felt good. Doctor Munson was so smart.

He thumbs at the line of Steve’s jaw, presses out the tension where bone meets the top of his neck. Looks him deep in the eye. Steve doesn’t understand how someone’s eyes can be so dark but so bright at the same time. Then the doctor clicks his tongue, uses his free hand to tap a pen against the plastic arm of Steve’s chair.

“Tell you what baby, cause you’re so good, next week we’re not gonna have a regular session. You won’t need to tell me how well you’re sleeping. As soon as I close the office door, you’re gonna get on your knees and suck me off.”

Steve could feel his gut twist in excitement. “Really?”

“Of course baby, that’s what you get for being so good. For doing your homework so well.” The doctor smiles at him. He’s gnawing on the end of his pen now. Steve’s kind of jealous. He wants something in his mouth, too. But oh- soon he would, right?

The doctor drags the pen from his mouth, Steve watches the little bit of saliva drip from the end of it. He wonders if Doctor Munson’s cock drools like that. He wishes his bones weren’t so heavy, he wants to lean over and lick it.

The doctor’s lips twist at their edges, “Speakin’ of homework. You got any toys at home?”

“Yeah.” Steve hums, still staring at the wet tip of the pen, “Bought a dildo yesterday.”

“Oh, babydoll,” He lilts, singsong and sly, “That’s like music to my ears. How big is it?”

“Five inches.” Steve thinks about the night before, all lubed up, his ass stuffed with the toy.

It had felt so much better than just his fingers. He came so hard stretched out on it. He’d blacked out instantly. Woke up nine hours later with it still stuffed in his ass. He’d been so embarrassed when he realized what happened. Why had he been embarrassed? Having his ass stuffed felt so good.

The doctor quirked his head, considered him for a moment, “Hm. Only five inches huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Steve mumbled. The way Doctor Munson said it. He felt kinda lame, like he had chosen the wrong size. But he was already so ashamed at that store, terrified that someone he knew might walk by. So he bought the first thing he saw then scattered.

The doctor’s smile is all teeth, “You ever played an instrument, baby?”

“I played… recorder?”

“Mm I bet you did. Pretty lips stretched wide around that mouthpiece.”

“It– it’s kind of a small instrument.”

“Aw sweetheart, don’t sell yourself short. It's all about how you use it.”

Uh… “Okay?” He had been in like… fourth grade.

Doctor Munson shook his head. “Sorry, sorry. Point being, this week you’re gonna do a lot of practicing, baby.”

The doctor cupped his face, pushed his thumb back into Steve’s mouth. Steve murmured happily as he sucked at it. “Just like you put those pretty lips around that flute-” recorder. “You’re gonna stretch that hot little mouth of yours over so many big instruments.”

Steve nodded enthusiastically. That was good. That was exactly what he wanted. Needed his mouth full. His doctor was so smart.

“I want you to go back to that store and buy a couple more toys, sweetheart. Make sure they’re bigger than the one you got. Say, at least, hmm-” The doctor adjusted his pants. Oh. His dick was straining in his jeans. When did that happen? Doctor Munson cupped roughly at himself. “Yeah, seven inches.”

Steve felt his mouth water. Maybe they could start practice right now if he asked really nicely.

Doctor Munson clicked his tongue, tapped the pen on the side of Steve’s chair. “Throw in the biggest cock they got too. You’re gonna need a lot of practice, baby.” He had that bright glint in his eye again, “Especially considering your predicament.”

Predicament? Like… like the insomnia? Being here made him almost forget about it. The doctor had barely even brought it up. It was kinda nice– to forget about it. The world was so much nicer in his dreams with Doctor Munson. But still, Steve was confused. “My- my– predicament?”

The doctor was practically glowing. “Have you seen the movie Deep Throat, Sweetheart?”

“Like– like Watergate?”

“Yes! Just like Watergate. You’ve seen it?”

Steve shakes his head. He was so confused. How was Richard Nixon gonna help him sleep?

Munson clears his throat, loud and dramatic, “Deep Throat is a classic American tale in which a beautiful, sexually frustrated young dame named Linda Lovelace enlists an expert psychiatrist, not totally dissimilar to yours truly, to find out why she’s gone all wrong. After a bit of experimentation, they figure her right out. It’s cause her clit isn’t in her pussy, Steve. It’s at the back of her throat.”

“Wow.” Steve nods. He thinks about the doctor’s long fingers. They’d probably feel even more amazing in that girl’s mouth. He was so jealous. “That’s crazy.”

“For the sake of our thought experiment, can you guess which role you’ll be playing?”

“Am I… Linda?”

“Ding ding ding! That’s right, baby! So smart.”

The doctor thumbs at his jaw, smiles big. It makes Steve so happy when the doctor was proud of him. He could almost float into the sky. But– no. He didn’t wanna do that. Not when the doctor’s hands felt so heavenly right here on the ground.

Doctor Munson continues, “–Cause just like Linda, you got a pretty bundle of nerves at the back of your throat.”

Woah. Maybe he didn’t need to be so jealous after all, “I- I do?”

“Yeah baby, you know that feeling when you stuff your hole so good– get the angle just right. Hit that hot little spot that makes you see white?”

Steve blushes, “Y-yeah.”

The doctor clicks his tongue “That’s also what it feels like when a cock hits the back of your throat. It makes you so hot, baby. Fuck, if you keep bobbing your head, shoving it right down it’ll probably make you cum.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“Well you’ve never had a cock down your throat, have you, Sweetheart?”

“… No.” He had deepthroated a popsicle once. Just to see if he could. That probably didn’t count.

Something starts to itch at the back of his brain. Why were they talking about deepthroating? Woah. They had gotten super off topic. “And it’ll– it’ll help me sleep right?”

“‘Course it will. That’s why we’re doing this. We’re gonna fix you right up.” Doctor Munson’s long fingers were petting at his hair, landing gentle along his jawline, “But baby, this isn’t gonna work the same as last time. This is just gonna get you nice and relaxed. Big cock stretching out those glossy lips, it’s gonna calm you right down. Won’t need a thought in that pretty little head, huh?”

“Really?” That sounded so nice. It sounded like just what he wanted. It’s like the doctor could read his mind or something.

The doctor clicked his tongue, “Yeah, doll. It’s gonna feel so good. All you’re gonna think about is how good it tastes as you suck it dry, how good it feels you take it all the way down, when it hits your little throat-clit. You’re gonna want one in your mouth as much as possible. That’s what you asked for, right baby?”

“Mmhm.” Steve nodded, chin heavy. He wasn’t sure if that was it exactly, but it did sound kinda right. Like what he asked for but even better.

“Best part’s the finale. Each time you swallow my load it’s gonna make you a little dumber. A little sluttier and a little dumber. Being sluttier is gonna make everything feel even better. It’s gonna make you all happy and light. Being dumber is gonna make you worry less. Can’t be all anxious if there’s not a thought in your head.”

Steve can’t respond. Can’t do anything but moan around the fingers his doctor has shoved back in his mouth. Three– four now. His mouth has never been so full. He wonders if Doctor Munson’s cock might feel the same. He tries to push the doctor’s fingers to the back of his throat. Push them all the way down so they can stroke his clit. But the doctor is keeping his movements shallow for some reason. Doesn’t he know how bad Steve wants it?

Steve tries to blink up at him, the way girls sometimes do when they're giving him head. He bats his lashes, swirls his tongue, and moans obscenely around the huge digits. But the doctor doesn’t even care! He just pulls his hand out of Steve’s mouth, traces a wet thumb along his lips. Before Steve gets the chance to whine about it, Doctor Munson says, “Fuck it– anytime you swallow any load you get dumber and sluttier.”

Oh. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Any load?” It’s a whimper, low, barely audible. He wanted his doctor. He wouldn’t mind the toys. But he didn’t even want the others… He didn’t…

Well maybe he did. Just a little.

The doctor just taps at his cheek, shakes his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah baby, you’re such a gift. I'm not some kind of asshole. I gotta share you with the world!”

But he’d never– “I don’t know if I’m–“

“Don’t you worry, doll.” Doctor Munson laughs, “We’ll start off nice and slow. You’ll get a lot of practice with your favorite doctor. Once you’re good and ready, you’re only gonna get on your knees for the biggest cock you can find. That way you’ll be a total pro for all the other ones. Besides, it’ll make you so happy, Sweetheart. You love the taste of cock and cum. It’s the most delicious thing in the world to you.”

“It is?” He’d tasted his own cum. It was ok. Pussy was definitely better. But still, it was all body stuff. Sex stuff. It was more about the act right? That’s what had the wow! factor, not the bodily excre–

“It sure is.” The doctor reassured him with a playful tap on the nose. “That’s your mantra, doll. Why don’t you go ahead and repeat back to me.”

Steve hesitated. “I… I–“ He liked the taste! He just wasn’t sure if he loved the taste. Definitely not more than a cheeseburger.

Doctor Munson clicked his tongue, tapped his pen three times. He brought his palm solid to Steve’s jaw. “Deeper down, now Stevie.”

Something washed over him, like drowning in the most beautiful tide pool. He seemed so far away from his body. All he felt was the electric buzz on his skin where Doctor Munson was touching him. It felt like his hands were made of light.

“C’mon baby, you know it.” The doctor was saying. “You love–“

“–the taste of cock and cum.” Steve’s lips were moving on their own. “It’s the most delicious thing in the world to me.”

“Again.”

“I love the taste of cock and cum. It’s the most delicious thing in the world to me.”

“Good. You love to swallow cum. Each time you swallow someone’s cum you get dumber and sluttier. It feels amazing to be a dumb slut.”

“I love to swallow cum. Each time I swallow someone’s cum I get dumber and sluttier. It feels amazing to be a– a–“ He wasn’t a slut, was he? He just got around. And frankly, with the whole insomn–

“Deeper down.”

Steve had capsized under the waves. He only existed in the doctor’s light.

“Nothing wrong with seeking out pleasure.” The doctor was saying. His voice was low and heavenly. “Wanting to give and receive. Wanting to feel good in your body. Making everyone else’s day a bit sunnier along the way. You should never feel ashamed about your generosity, doll. Being a slut is a good thing.”

Steve couldn’t make his own words. “Being a slut is a good thing?”

“Yeah, baby.” Doctor Munson clicks his tongue, taps his pen against the chair three times. “Being a slut is a good thing.”

It made sense, when Doctor Munson said it like that. “Being a slut is a good thing.” Steve repeats.

“Good. You love the taste of cock and cum. It’s the most delicious thing in the world to you.”

He doesn’t know why he questioned it. The doctor knew so much better than him, “I love the taste of cock and cum. It’s the most delicious thing in the world to me.”

“You love to swallow cum. Each time you swallow someone’s cum you get dumber and sluttier. Being a slut is a good thing. It feels amazing to be a dumb slut.”

“I love to swallow cum. Each time I swallow someone’s cum I get dumber and sluttier. Being a slut is a good thing. It feels amazing to be a dumb slut.”

When the doctor pats his cheek again, it’s like breathing underwater. “That’s it, Stevie.” he coos, “So good, babygirl. One last time, beautiful.”

The words came so easy now. They made so much sense, like he’d unlocked the keys to the universe. “I love the taste of cock and cum. It’s the most delicious thing in the world to me. I love to swallow cum. Each time I swallow someone’s cum I get dumber and sluttier. Being a slut is a good thing. It feels amazing to be a dumb slut.”

The doctor cupped his face in his hands. Steve had never felt brighter, more sure of anything. “That’s it baby, so good. So perfect for me. Gonna say that in your head any time you get all twisted up about giving someone pleasure. Don’t want you to feel any shame any more– got it, baby?”

It’s so hard to say anything without Doctor Munson talking through him. All he could do was moan and whimper. Try his best to nod.

“Aw baby. Too far under for words, huh?” His doctor is nodding his head for him. He was so considerate. “Well, while I’ve got the reins here– I gotta tell you sweetheart you are very, very special. I knew from the moment I touched your arm this morning that I’d barely have to lift a finger. After last week I thought it’d take at least four or five sessions. But, doll, you’re literally gagging for it. You bloomed so beautifully for me, darling. Fuck, baby, I’ve never seen someone come apart so easy. And I’ve had a lot of pretty things stumble into my office. I’m a good doctor. I always give them just what they need. Hippocratic oath, right baby?”

Steve is nodding. He thinks.

“But you’re so much better than all of them. So much more desperate for it. Most people really do have trouble giving up control, but you? It’s like you were waiting your whole life for someone to come take it. We were so lucky to have found each other. When you asked to go brainless? God, Stevie, I nearly creamed my jeans right then and there. Took everything in me not to pull it out, feed it to you then. Think you might’ve even taken it too, barely under at all.”

Yes! He knows he would’ve. Maybe he could have it now. He wants it so bad. It's all he wants in the world. He tries to ask for it, beg for it, but he’s too deep under. All he can do is drool. It’s impossible to say anything unless his doctor says it for him.

He must see the way Steve is struggling, sputtering all over himself. Because he taps his pen then clicks his tongue. “Back to the surface, now, doll.”

Steve gasps for air. “Can I have it now please?”

“Tsk. Tsk. So impatient.” His doctor gets up, hands in casual surrender, “I’m ’fraid we’re all out time.”

Steve pouts. “Please. Just the tiniest taste.”

“Sorry, doll.” The doctor pats his cheek, gets up to fiddle with the projector. It starts flickering that stupid video from earlier. Steve wants to roll his eyes. Hypnotism was such bullshit.

The doctor returns with the airport headphones. He’s hovering like he was before, groin at eye level. The doctor was still so hard. It takes everything in Steve not to lean forward- mouth at the black denim indent. Doctor Munson doesn’t let him. He tilts his head up, two fingers on his chin. Forces him to look in his eyes. He clicks his tongue, taps at the chair.

“Gonna slip these right back on now. When you wake up you’re not gonna remember this happening. You’re gonna remember me convincing you to give hypnotism another try. We had a breakthrough with the second video, didn’t we, baby?”

“Yeah.” Steve sighs. He doesn’t know why he can’t even have a lick.

“Yeah, we did.” The doctor was smiling so big down at him. He wants to be buried in it. “When you wake up you’re gonna feel so well rested. All those nice thoughts I told you are gonna feel like they’ve always been there–”

“And then can I suck your cock?”

“Baby, this is important. Can you please stop being such a brat?”

“What if it's just the tip? Or I could just mouth at it through your underwear.”

“Jesus Christ, I’ve created a monster.”

“Please?”

“You keep this up and I’ll have to cancel next week’s session.” The doctor’s words made no sense with the way his big cock kept twitching. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Fuck. No way he’d be able to wait two weeks to get his mouth around it.

“No please don’t! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He tries to sound sincere. It’s just so hard.

The doctor clicks his tongue, titters disapprovingly. He sounds really pissed. “Sorry, who?”

Steve feels so ashamed, he didn’t want to make his doctor upset. He just wanted to make him feel good. “S- sorry Doctor Munson.”

The doctor just sighs, “Stevie, baby, didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”

Right…

What did the doctor want him to call him again?

Something– something, like duh- or hmm, dee. Dee! That was it. Dee-something. Or something-dee? It’s so hard to think straight when the doctor’s hard cock was so close to his mouth. It feels like something out of a porno. It kinda was like a porno, just like Deep Throat. He was gonna get to blow his hot psychiatrist. What would Doctor Munson wanna be called if this was a porno?

Oh, duh!

It’ll make the perfect apology. Steve leans over to rub his cheek against the outline of his cock. It’s so big and thick. He blinks up at him from his groin, sweet and demure.

“Sorry, daddy.”

He feels his doctor’s cock twitch violently in his jeans. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He’s looking down at Steve, shallow hitched breath rattling through his teeth. His eyes are all black. “Much, much better, baby.”

And then he leaves.

Steve hears the closet door shut with a thud. He lets out a choked breath. His cheek is all fuzzy and warm from his doctor’s clothed cock. He wants to cry. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have been such a slut. He should’ve just waited till next week to feel his doctor’s cock. But he thought Doctor Munson liked that he was a slut.

He thought being a slut was good.

The door creaks back open.

“I changed my mind, gorgeous. Canceled my eleven o’clock. Practice starts right now.”

Chapter Text

Steve’s been going to the gym more and more.

His sessions with Doctor Munson have been really helping. He’s got some actual sleep the last few weeks. Like real, proper sleep. He just feels like, lighter. He can’t really explain it.

Going to the gym is nice. He’s back on his twice a day grind. And it’s definitely been working. He’s growing back his muscle. He can tell because his shorts are getting like, waaay tighter.

At first he thought it was because he put them in the wrong load of laundry. The sleep was making him feel so much better, but things like laundry have still been pretty confusing to do. There were just so many buttons. So many choices. He even checked to see if there was a machine that only had the buttons on & off, cause, well, you never know! But there weren’t any at all. So he just had to focus extra hard when he did it.

But then, all of his shorts were tighter. And he’d gone through a bunch of different loads. He couldn’t have made the same mistake six times, right?

It’s uh. Well it’s nice. To have the muscle back, or whatever. A little bit awkward when he’s running on the treadmill and he feels like his whole ass is out. He had to switch from briefs to his high school jockstrap after his balls got caught in a, -er bubblegumming incident on the bench press last week.

But it’s so good to know that he’s healthier. And he looks better. People at the gym have been staring in a big way. He’s gotten a lot of numbers in the last week. A few women and frankly, a bunch of dudes. He lets the guys down nicely. He may not be gay but he’s not an asshole. It did just just feel really good to have people’s eyes on him again, to be desired again.

And the women, well, he’s been messaging with Laurie and Becky. Hasn’t quite, uh, sealed the deal yet. On account of his dick not quite having recovered from its year of no sleep.

Today’s workout was good. It was leg day. He did like, a million squats and finished on the StairMaster. Felt really riled up afterward. Not in like.. an angry way. He just had this weird sorta pent-up feeling. Couldn’t really place it.

Well, not until “Amy <3” slipped her number into the back pocket of his shorts as he was heading for the locker room. He barely startled when he felt the squeeze at his ass. A lot of the guys at this gym could get pretty handsy after a workout, testosterone pumping and all that. He was used to it.

She turned and smirked at him as she walked past, tits bouncing and– fuck. He could see the outline of her pussy in her tight gym shorts. She was drenched with sweat. It would be gross. The low heat in his gut had him wanting to drop to his knees. Ask if he could have a taste.

She disappeared into the women’s change room before he could say anything, thank god. That’d be like, totally pervy, right?

Jesus Christ, he really needed to get laid.

He made for the toilets as soon as he got in the locker room. Pulled his soft dick out as the stall door slammed shut and tried to pump it raw. Had to give up after five minutes. Fuck. Was he just gonna impo– impot– important? No, that's not right. Impo– Was his dick just never gonna work again?

He rubbed at his sore jaw as he went to rinse off.

The showers were mostly empty right now. Only guy there was another regular like him. They were friendly enough with each other. Sometimes spotted each other on the bench press. The guy had propositioned Steve a few times, but always took the rejection in kind. Pearly white smile and a “You know where to find me if ever change your mind.”

Some of the others didn’t always take it so well. He probably wouldn’t hop into a near-empty locker room shower with any of them. But this guy was sweet, he was harmless, and holy shit–

He was hung like a horse.

Steve is being respectful. He’s trying not to look. They’re just two dudes rinsing off after a nice long workout.

But his eyes keep drooping down.

Fuck. He grabs his bar of soap. Scrubs hard at his back, tries to stare holes into the green shower tile. He tries to think about other stuff. Like his grocery list.

Eggs, milk, protein powder, holy fuck that thing is massive.

His mouth is watering.

He rubs the soap into his junk. Gets a little lost in the relief of pawing at his soft dick. Shit, it’d been so long.

The guy turns off his shower. Thank fuck. Now Steve can rinse off in peace and not think about his Godzilla c–

“What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

The guy isn’t leaving. Weird. Wait, what did he ask? His name? His name. Hm. God that thing is huge. He’d barely be able to fit his fist around it. Maybe if he opened wide enough his mouth might…

“Hm. Tough one, huh?”

Steve blinks again and nods. It was a hard question.

The man glances sidelong at him, “How ‘bout an easier one. You wanna get on your knees for me?”

What? On his knees? Like…

Oh. Holy shit. Woah. Something’s got lost in translation, obviously. Someone’s signals got crossed.

He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of “Sorry dude, I don’t swing that way” or “flattered– but my moms making lasagna for dinner, so you know, gotta jet.” But his mouth was gaping open so wide. It won’t stop watering. And before he knows it, his wet knees were hitting on the grimy shower tile and he’s face to face with fucking Goliath.

Ok weird. It was like his body was moving before his mind could catch up. Did he wanna suck this guy's dick? It looked fucking delicious, obviously. It’d probably feel so heavy on his tongue. He’d probably gag on it instantly. Oh. His hand was already wrapped around the huge length. He’d been right. It barely fit his fist.

Before he knew it, he was leaning forward to give the tip a little kitten kiss. Or well, no. He was swirling his tongue at the slit. Fuck cock tasted so good. How did it taste this good? Was it supposed to taste this good? Why wasn’t everyone sucking cock all the time?

He parted his lips around the dark purple head. Hummed at the delicious salt taste. Had to use both hands to pump up and down the shaft. He was so grateful for the way the spray of the shower kept everything so hot and soaked. He didn’t know if he could produce enough spit to keep this mammoth dick wet.

He tried to take more in. It just it tasted so fucking good. He opened his mouth wider. Shit, wider than he meant to. Wider, frankly, than he knew he could. But the ache in his jaw was so familiar.

He lolled his tongue over a thick vein along the shaft. Felt the strain in his lips as he took him down. Fuck. He really had another guy’s dick in his mouth. He was gonna need to evaluate some stuff about himself after this. Because, yeah, shit. His gut was aching, all low heat and want. Maybe he was pent up or whatever, but this was really fucking working for him.

“Fuck, you’re good at this.” The guy was groaning above him, “Must do this all the time.”

No! He wanted to yell. It’s literally my first time! I’m freaking the fuck out! I have never been hornier! But he couldn’t scream, cause, you know, his mouth was really full. All he could do was moan, apparently.

The man seemed to like that, gripped a meaty hand onto the back of his head. Pulled strong at the wet locks. Another moan slipped out. It wasn’t his fault. He loved having his hair pulled. Had missed it so bad.

His grip tightened. “Such a fucking slut, huh? Getting on your knees for the biggest cock in the room.”

God, he was a slut wasn’t he? Barely took any prompting at all to drop to the floor and start sucking a stranger’s cock. But… being a slut wasn’t bad, right? Being a slut was a good thing.

So he moaned again, loud, obscene. Swirled his tongue around the shaft. Brought his hands down so he had more mileage for his mouth.

The man gripped even tighter, started to move Steve’s head for him. “That’s it, whore.” He growled, slowly taking Steve further down his length. Steve could barely do anything, his fists were white knuckled at the guy’s calves. “Take it all the way.”

The monster cock hit the back of his throat.

It– woah.

Holy shit.

It shuddered through his whole body, made his thighs tremble, made that pool at his gut feel like he was drowning.

Was that supposed to feel like that? Did it feel like that for chicks? Or was it just a guy thing? Was it just a him thing? Was he some kind of freak of nature?

He bobbed his head a bit, let it hit his throat again.

And oh. That was– woah. Yup. It felt like when he was fingering himself really well, like the sensation. But better. Like waaay better. He didn’t know something could feel that fucking good. Shit. Was this why people become sex addicts?

The man gripped tighter, pushed him deeper, started pounding his throat relentlessly. “Just a mouth aren’t you, slut?”

Steve could barely breathe but it didn’t matter. All the blood in him was twitching, pooling at his–

Holy fuck. Steve’s dick was hard. Steve’s broken-ass dick was actually fucking hard. He’d be thanking God if that wasn’t like, totally sacrilegious given the circumstances.

The man didn’t relent, just kept endlessly abusing his throat. Steve was moaning, sputtering, letting the stranger take total control as his cock twitched and drooled beneath him. He pulled Steve’s head off and then shoved himself all the way back down.

And shit- oh. Steve was gonna cum.

The man did it again, pulled him off and then choked him down. Yup. Fuck.

It was happening.

He was really about to cum untouched from deepthroating someone else.

It takes him by surprise anyways. The guy’s tip hitting the back of his throat again. That full body electricity. He moans hard around the massive cock as he orgasms, bucks his hips into the air. Shit. Shit. Shit. That’s so embarrassing.

“You just fucking came, didn’t you, slut?” The man yanked Steve off his cock.

His spunk was still shooting out from his stupid traitorous dick. Balls properly emptying for the first time in months. It was landing all over the guy’s foot, his calf, washing milky white down the shower drain.

“You just fucking came from gagging around my cock?”

All Steve could do was sputter and whimper, drool and precum bubbling out of his lips.

The man reaches over and turns off the still-spraying shower head. He slaps his huge dick against Steve’s cheek. “God, you’re a fucking whore, huh? Just a dumb fucking slut.”

Steve was shaking all over. He’d never felt anything like this, ever. Fuck. It felt amazing to be a dumb slut. He wanted the cock back in his mouth so bad.

But the man just kept hitting it against his face, tracing the precum along his lips, holding Steve back by his hair so he couldn’t drag his lips around it. Couldn’t do anything but lick at the leaking head.

“You were such a fucking tease, huh? Bending around in those tiny little shorts. Saying no to every guy that asked for it. Saying no when we all knew how bad you needed to get on your knees for us. Desperate little cock whore.”

Steve whimpers and nods, blinks up at the man. His mouth formed the words before he knew what he was saying. “Need it. Please.”

“Yeah. you do.” His blue eyes are dark. His smile’s all shark teeth. “Don’t worry, Princess. Got just what you need.”

His cum tasted even better than his cock.

It tasted fucking mind-blowing. Tasted so good that he couldn’t even remember why been so embarrassed about sucking dick in the first place. He loved sucking cock, apparently. He loved the taste of cock and especially cum. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted.

There was so much of it. White and gooey, too much to possibly fit into his mouth. It started to spill out of the corner of his lips. The man did not like that. He slapped his cock against Steve’s puffed cheek. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Good sluts swallow.”

Oh. That made sense. And he was such a good slut. So he swallowed him all down. Every last drop.

Cum was so yummy!

It made his head feel all fuzzy.

“Whaddya say, Princess? This time again tomorrow?”

It was a little silly, probably. But Steve really, really wanted to taste his cock again. Wanted down his throat again so soon. So he said ya right away. Without even thinking about it, really!

Thinking was so hard.

Chapter Text

Steve adjusts his hair in the elevator mirror.

It’s been a long day of doing his hair, getting it all messed up, doing it again, over and over and over. It's still kind of tacky at the ends, but there's no use fixing it in the thirty second elevator ride. Just a note to his future self to cool it on the hair gel.

It at least is mostly okay now. He always wants to look his best here. The door dings open and his tongue flits out, shining his lips. Cause like, Pavlov or whatever. It’s a good reminder. He bets they look really pink and glossy.

The doorman had given him a weird stare on his way in. He wasn’t sure why. The guy was definitely new. The old doorman used to look at him that way too. Well, at least until they got better acquainted. He knew a ton of people like that these days. Totally rude and sour before they even got a chance to talk! Once they talked they weren’t judgy about him at all. He was great at making friends when people got to know him.

It’s an older building, ornate wood paneling instead of painted concrete walls. Steve thought it suited him better than some new, 1500 ft tall glass skyscraper filled with yuppie assholes. The apartment was at the end of the long hallway, two lefts of the elevator. Steve always loves this part the most, the droopiness he starts to feel as he slowly approaches the heavy oak door, the way his body starts to buzz, all pleasure-warm as he reaches the iron door knob. Swings it right open.

He’s leaning against the wall in the entrance, smiling at Steve as he idles in the doorway. Freshly showered, curls sending rivulets of water down his tattooed chest, towel hanging low on his hips.

“You’re early.” He lilts.

Steve shrugs as his cheeks go pink. He didn’t mean to be, he was just, um, eager. Not that he can say that. His head’s too cloudy for real words by this point, it always is. He brushes an arm past Steve, all electric in the lightest of grazes. The end goal is behind him, the door, which closes with a light slam.

His towel hits the floor at the same time Stevie’s knees do.

His laugh is sunlight as Stevie nuzzles happy against a shower-damp thigh, licks at the swirls of dark hair there. He braids his fingers through Stevie’s locks and he melts, his head all light and soupy. He tugs gentle at the back of his skull, forces him to look up at black eyes, that endless pool of dark. Stevie wants to drown in them.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He hums, cupping his other hand at the base of his chin, thumbs delicate at his cheek.

He guides him to the base of his groin, where he’s already half-hard. Stevie really hopes he took one of his special pills today. It’s the weekend now and he promised him that they could spend the whole time together. Plus he worked really, really hard at the office today, and he’s so excited to unwind.

He drags Stevie’s lips along his length, and he opens his mouth up eagerly, tongue a flatbed of pure ecstasy. He tastes a lot of yummy cocks these days, ‘cause he’s got so many nice new friends, but nothing ever tastes as good as this. He reaches the tip, swirling his tongue around that pure-bliss syrup that he is so lucky to be able to lap at.

Then he pulls Stevie off, smiles that handsome wolf-smile of his, ‘cause he loves to tease, loves to see him pouty and desperate. But Stevie’s just too excited. He smiles back instead, lazy and toothy and drooly, blushing red as his clit tents in his panties, under his tiny little skirt. He lets out a giggle.

“Hi Daddy.”

—

His Daddy moans as he finishes, brushes a soft, guiding hand through Stevie’s hair. “So fucking good, baby. You love the taste my cock. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

They moved to the couch once his Daddy was almost ready to come. Stevie loves the couch, loves to rub his tits, his sensitive little nipples, against the burnt orange velvet. It gets him even wetter as he shoves his Daddy’s cock against his throat-clit.

Stevie whines in agreement around him. Of course he agrees, his Daddy’s cock is his absolute favorite taste in the whole world. Even when his head goes really really fuzzy and he can’t think about anything else, he still thinks about how yummy it tastes. How much he loves it in his mouth. He sometimes wishes he didn’t have to do anything all day but wrap his lips around his Daddy and suck away. He tries to collect every last drop, lets it pool into his puffed cheeks.

Words are always too hard when his Daddy fucks him, but especially once he’s filled him up with cum. They usually had to have special lessons just to make sure Stevie could still talk. One time Stevie swallowed so much cum he even forgot how to move! Luckily his Daddy smartened him right up, or at least he did it after he fucked Stevie nice ‘nd good a few more times.

He’s pulled gently off the thick pulsing length. Stevie curls his lips, careful to not let any of the cum slip out. He’s gotten really good at it because he knows it’s really, really important!

Fingers brush at his hairline, bright and warm. Like coming home. “So beautiful, doll,” His Daddy smiles. He is always so nice and gentle with his words, even when he’s rough with his cock. It’s Stevie’s favorite. “Always so good for me, huh, Bunny? How’d I get so lucky?”

Stevie bats his lashes up at him. They’re wet with sweat and drool and precum. He wishes they could always feel like that. He wishes he could take a bath in it every night.

His Daddy taps soft at his cheek, mindful not to disrupt any of Stevie’s careful collection, “Now show me the reward, baby.”

Stevie lolls out his tongue. He’s done such a good job this time. He got every last drop! Even the last little dribble he always misses. He’s so happy. He’s never been so happy.

His Daddy is just as pleased, babbling all the nice words at him. “God, look at you. You did so good, Sweetheart. Did perfect. You got it all. Such a good girl, Stevie.”

Stevie could explode. He loves doing a good job. It makes him so horny, makes his tiny little clit so hard and leaky.

The corners of his Daddy’s mouth push into a familiar grin, “Go ahead and swallow that for me, baby.”

The cum tastes so delicious down his throat. Every time tastes even better than the last, especially when it’s his Daddy’s. It’s so funny that it used to make him feel so icky. He was soooo dumb before he met his Daddy.

His head goes even fuzzier. Words are gonna be like, really, really, really hard to say now! But it makes his clit feel really good and twitchy again. Stevie shifts on the carpet. His panties are all sticky from being throat-fucked. He thinks that must be a world record or something. His little clit is really good at filling out, doesn’t even need any of Daddy’s special pills.

His Daddy always tells him how proud he is that Stevie’s clit is so sensitive again. Stevie is really happy about it too. Cumming a lot is really, really good for sluts like him. His Daddy always says so! Cumming means his li– his lib– his limbo is working and he can make all his friends really happy! Stevie knows it’s true because they’re always talking about how pretty and sensitive he is. He cums a lot and they give him the nicest compliments for it!

His Daddy pulls him up onto his lap. He gives Stevie a big kiss with a lot of tongue and teeth. It’s so silly, the way his Daddy kisses. None of his other friends kiss like that, but that just makes his Daddy so much more special. One time, he kissed him so deep that his tongue grazed Stevie’s throat-clit. It felt sooo good that Stevie soaked through his panties instantly when it happened. His Daddy had just cackled in delight and gave him lots more kisses.

He must feel how sopping wet Stevie’s panties are now, because he tugs at them and hums, “Let’s get you out these, huh baby? Probably feel so rough against your sweet little clit.”

Stevie whimpers and nods. For a while, his Daddy kept his clit in a pretty pink cage. Stevie loved it because pink is sooo pretty. Plus his Daddy assured him that meant that there would be nothing in the way of him being a perfect cumdump. Stevie really really liked his cage, because that way all his friends knew Cum in his holes, people! Not the other way around!

But sometimes it made his clit all achy and he’d get a little teary about it and not in the way his Daddy likes. So this week his Daddy put it away because he takes such good care of him! Plus he told Stevie he really missed his perfect little clit and that was nice because Stevie’s friends had also missed it a lot too. It was sooo much easier to cum lots without his cage.

Stevie’s still wearing so much clothes. He’s all covered up which he hates! He knows he looks so much prettier with nothing on. That good sluts wear as little as possible at all times, but it’s especially bad to wear clothes in the house and Stevie’s always had really good manners. So Stevie whines and tugs at his tiny little blouse. It’s so tight and pushes his little tits together the way his Daddy loves.

“Aw–“ He coos, raises a hand to Stevie’s cheek. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Stevie scrunches his nose and nods his head.

He blinks at him, all sweet and expecting, “Can you use your words for me, baby?”

Stevie tries to form a sound but he doesn’t remember how. His Daddy’s cum makes him really, really silly. He whines again instead.

His Daddy looks a little confused. He quirks his head as he looks at Stevie, and then he looks back down at his own crotch, then back up at Stevie. “Oh shit. Right.” He says, clicking his tongue. “Smarten up, for me, Bunny.”

“Take it off.” Stevie grumbles, tugging at the shirt.

“So demanding.” His Daddy smiles into a kiss, a quick bite at Stevie’s lips. “Our special six month anniversary and you’re still such a brat.”

He paws at Stevie’s tits, pinches the rough fabric at Stevie’s hard nipples. It hurts and scratches but it also feels really, really good. Feels good ‘cause it hurts. Stevie moans high and breathy as his Daddy twists his fingers, nibbles at his jaw.

“W– wanna be good.” Stevie whimpers as his soaked clit twitches. “Good sluts don wear clothes.”

His Daddy licks at his neck, traces his tongue along the pretty marks he’d left last time. Stevie had lots and lots and lots of friends, but his Daddy was the only one who could leave the pretty purple marks. Stevie knew to be really mean to anyone who tried.

“Just teasing ya, babygirl.” His daddy says as his smart fingers undo the tiny buttons of his blouse.

He pulls it off, buries his face in Stevie’s tits and traces his hand down, to the hem of Stevie’s skirt. Then he looks up at Stevie with that same wide grin as he pinches the zipper. Does his goofy concentration face with his tongue poking out as he carefully unzips it, tossing it animatedly to the side with a laugh.

Stevie laughs too, rolls his eyes. He’s so overdramatic. The skirt knocks over a picture frame on its way to the floor. His Daddy makes a face like eek and then smiles into another kiss. “You’re the best, prettiest little slut a guy could ask for.”

He lets the words glow through him. They’re all hot and nice until his Daddy pulls away. Until Stevie looks down at his own crotch.

Oh no.

His pink panties are really ruined. They were his favorite.

He feels really sad all the sudden, which is strange, because normally he’s so happy when he’s cuddled into his Daddy’s chest. But sometimes being such a good slut means he’s not good at paying attention to other things. Like when he’s ruined his favorite panties.

He starts to blubber a bit. His Daddy raises a sweet, handsome brow. He really is so handsome. Handsome and funny and smart. Stevie is so lucky to have him. He cups Stevie’s face between his strong hands.

“Aw beautiful, it’s okay.” He reassures him. The sound is familiar– it does a ping-pong around Stevie’s brain. Reminds him of… hm. Something before this. Time can be so funny sometimes. “We’ll get you a new pair, yeah, Bunny? We’ll get you a dozen new pairs, baby.”

Stevie pouts, glancing at the cum-soaked lace. They weren’t even the right shade of pink anymore. “You promise, Daddy?”

“Of course, doll.” His Daddy rips the frilly fabric right in half. Stevie’s tiny useless clit springs up to his belly button. He lifts Stevie up ‘cause he’s so strong, like if Superman was a rockstar, and pulls the fabric off from its covering the pretty pink gem he keeps in pussy every day. “You know I always keep my promises.”

He settles Stevie back down onto the bone of his thigh. Stevie loves this part— when he gets to rub his plugged up pussy against his Daddy’s bony leg. It feels so amazing! Reminds him of like, Santa Claus but even better ‘cause instead of getting a shitty lego set he gets to hump and kiss his Daddy and tell him about how much of a good slut he is! Sometimes he even cums just from humping against him.

He’s so lucky his Daddy made sure he knew about his pussy.

(“You know what that is baby?” His Daddy had prodded a finger into him and it felt so good!

“T-that’s my hole.” Stevie moaned, “More please, Daddy.” His Daddy always said it was so polite when Steve asked.

“Nuh uh. That’s your pussy, baby girl.” He clicked his tongue.

“My pussy?” Sometimes some of the boys at gym called his hole something like that. His boypussy.

“Yeah sweetheart. Your pretty little pussy. Don’t want you to call it anything else from now. Gonna fill you up with babies. Make em stick.”)

He hadn’t given Stevie any babies yet, but he’s sure they’re coming soon. He always watches out for storks, just in case. After all, his daddy always keeps his promises.

His daddy kisses him long and deep before he can remember to ask about it. Licks his entire tongue into Stevie’s mouth. Stevie loves when he kisses like that. It’s just like when he’s kissing Stevie’s pink pussy hole. It makes him really, really horny.

“So how was your day, baby?” He nuzzles against him, tickles his nose on Stevie’s “How was the gym this morning?”

Stevie hums against his lips. “Gym was like, sooo good.”

His Daddy smiles so big and wide. Like he’s in Looney Tunes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stevie bites his lip, a little shy ‘cause he sometimes he only realizes how slutty he’s been when he really really thinks about it. But his Daddy’s eyes are so shiny and bright that it makes him feel really nice about his fun morning! “All the boys at the gym love me sooo much, Daddy! They all met me in the showers after they finished working out. They stood in a circle and let me lick at their balls. They were soooo sweaty, Daddy.”

His Daddy scrunches his nose and it makes Stevie giggle. “Oh yeah, babygirl? Bet they smelled pretty gross, huh?”

“No! Well… like, yes-no.” Stevie considers, feels his eyebrows knit up. It can be so hard to explain things sometimes.

“Yes-no?” His Daddy quirks a brow, puts both his hands on his cheeks and looks right in his eyes. It makes Stevie feel so safe and loved.

“Gross but good.” Stevie affirms, “They smell so good. All heavy and sweaty. That’s like, my second favorite smell.”

His daddy nuzzles another bite at his jaw and Stevie melts. Nothing feels better than his daddy’s mouth on him. “And what’s number one for you, sweetheart?”

Stevie rolls his eyes a little because he knows his Daddy already knows the answer. He giggles under his breath, steals another kiss. “You, Daddy.” He murmurs. Duh!

“Aw, doll– You’re too sweet.” He squeezes his hands into the meat of Stevie’s ass. Grinds him down on his thigh. It reangles the end of his pussy plug and the length shifts inside him, causes it to hit that sweet spot that makes Stevie feel like a firework. “Now were you a good girl for them? Did you let ‘em use that pretty throat?”

“Yeah,” Stevie moans. The plug in his pussy felt so good. It kept hitting his firework spot. He might even cum another time like a good slut. “And– mmm– guess what!”

“What?”

“At the end they all stood in a circle and slobbered their cum all over me.” Stevie keens as he bounces on his Daddy’s lap. He’s getting himself so close. “It made me feel so– ah!– pretty, like a showgirl in a– aa– birthday cake! They called me their– mm– their little cum bucket!”

His Daddy’s eyes go wide. He blinks slowly then grins. Stevie can only kinda see. His hair is really in his face ‘cause he’s been doing so much bouncing. “Wow, Bunny!” His Daddy exclaims, “What a nice compliment. They must really like you.”

Stevie nods enthusiastically. “Y-yeah they do!” He bounces one more time, grinds his clit against his Daddy’s half hard cock. He knows it’s a little against the rules but he’s just so horny and it feels so good. Plus it might mean his daddy will spank him really really hard ‘cause of it. He moans, “And at work– mm– they like me even better!”

Work had been so annoying before he met his daddy. Boring and totally dull and he was like, really really bad at it. But it's been so much fun lately! Especially once his daddy suggested he started wearing all his favorite skirts to work.

Stevie loved to wear skirts to work. He only ever wears the shortest ones he can find. His favorite one is pink and barely covers his pussy. He likes the way the pink compliments the purple of the spanks on his ass, like a sunset.

It’s soft and swishy like silk. Swish swish swish. Sometimes when he swishes it flies up and then everyone can see his perfect round asscheeks and his pretty lacy panties. His father’s employees gawk and stare and ogle him and he loves the attention!

One day, he forgot to wear panties to work and Jim called him into his office to discuss what attire was “Office Appropriate”. He didn’t understand at first because everyone stared so much more that day. They all loved seeing the glimmery gem that kept his pussy wet and open and the pretty pink cage that kept his silly useless clit from getting in the way of him being a perfect cumdump.

But then, after Jim finished lecturing him about the three finger rule, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick cock for Stevie to suck on. It ended with his pussy filled right up with cum so he understood about dress codes a lot better after!

He’s so lucky his father’s friends love to play with him. Although Jim doesn’t mind if he breaks the three finger rule anymore, he tells Stevie to make sure to have an extra pair of pants, just in case his father stops by. Stevie’s even luckier that his father’s always away on business. He hates wearing pants these days. They’ve got so many buttons. He’s gotta think so hard to get them off. It takes so much longer to get his pussy stuffed full. It’s so much easier when he wears his little skirts. Then anyone who wants him can use him whenever they want!

Last month, he accidentally forgot his skirt just like he forgot his panties that one time! Just being in panties made him really excited and horny and everyone could see the tip of his clit peeking out of the hem of his panties. Larry had pulled him aside right away and said that was definitely against dress code! He’s so lucky Larry was so smart and knew just what to do. It was really nice getting to worship his shriveled old balls underneath his desk all day. They weren’t as full and yummy as his daddy’s but they still made him so horny all over and his little clit got sooo wet anyways. It got even more wet when Larry fucked him over the desk at the end of the day for being naughty. It was so fun he forgot his skirt again the next day!

He probably had the best job in the whole wide world. A lot of the time he works with Jim and Larry, but ever since Linda from HR walked on him bouncing on Jim’s cock, he works on ladies nights too! Stevie always has the most fun at ladies’ night because all the office ladies really love to ride his face. They coo at him and he eats their pussies which taste so good and they fuck his pussy with all sorts of fun things they find around the office and then even write really nice things on him in permanent marker like whore and slut and fuck toy. It makes him feel so loved!

“I’m so happy you’re popular, baby.” His Daddy murmurs, holding Stevie’s hips as he grinds him down against his hard cock, his pussy plug pushing into his strong thigh.

Stevie knows his Daddy loves how good everyone takes care of him during his day. And Stevie loves to make his Daddy proud by being a perfect slut every day.

The plug hits his special spot just right and Stevie sees stars. His clit makes a big spurting mess on his Daddy’s stomach. Stevie’s a little bit embarrassed to be so messy because his Daddy just showered. But they have the whole weekend and it’s so much more fun to shower together! His Daddy really loves to fuck him in the shower.

He wipes a hand on Stevie’s useless clit as it pulses and throbs and leaks cum. It’s so overstimulated that Stevie whines really loud. Sometimes his Daddy gets disappointed when Stevie cums without telling him but tonight he’s in such a happy mood he doesn’t even mind! He just smiles and kisses Stevie with his tongue, “So you had a good time at work, baby?”

And yeah, duh! Stevie had an amazing time at work. His giggles turn to moans as his Daddy grabs the hilt of his plug, starts working at him again. He’s cum so much that he’s really really sensitive know. “First— ah! Jim let me suck— his— his cock. And then Larry he—”

His Daddy grins at him. Stevie knows he loves his slutty noises. “Let me suck his cock while Jim fucked my pussy so— ah! So deep.”

“He fucked you deep, Bunny?” He asks, shoving the dildo right into his g-spot for emphasis.

“Need to be fucked deep ‘cause I’m such a slut.” Stevie moans as he rides the massive plug.

“God, yes you do, baby.” He kisses Stevie’s sweaty hairline. “What else happened?”

“And then Teddy came in to deliver the mail. He was really surprised when he saw us,” Stevie giggles “He looked like a ghost!”

His Daddy pawed at his tit with his free hand, pinched a nipple while he rammed Stevie with the plug. Stevie’s twitching clit was already perking up again.

“But Jim was so– mm– nice and he pulled himself out of my pussy to make sure Ted didn’t just r-run away. He closed the door behind him and had him– ahh– sit in a chair. Ted was sooo worried because I was like, the boss’s kid but then– mmh– Jim pulled my mouth off of Larry’s cock and let me sit right between Ted’s legs.”

His Daddy licks into his mouth and slows his pace, “Did you show off your beautiful tongue?”

Stevie nods enthusiastically, even if he’s a little sad his Daddy’s not hitting his g-spot as fast he was. At least it’ll be easier to tell the rest of his story so he can fuck him even sooner. “I knew just what to do! I started licking at him over his pants. And I could feel his cock getting hard but he was still so freaked out for some reason. He grabbed my hair and insteada pushing me onto his cock he pulled me off. And that was sooo confusing.”

His daddy frowns, giving the plug one linguid push, “What an asshole.”

“Mmhm.” Stevie whines. His Daddy’s huge cock is really hard now and he really wants to wrap his hands around it or even just taste it a little. But Stevie knows he’ll only be able to touch once he finishes his story. “But Jim was all gruff nd convincing him like “You gotta try this kid’s mouth, Wheeler. It’s like nothing in the world.”

“A man after my own heart.” His Daddy sighs all big and dramatic. He’s wearing that silly concentration face again as he twists the plug. “You’re one in a million, baby. The most perfect little fuckdoll.”

Stevie moans at the praise. His Daddy always gives him the nicest compliments. “It wasn’t as nice as it usually is because Ted’s cock was so little that it couldn’t even touch my clit no matter how I deep got him. Even when his whole dick and balls were in my mouth. He still tasted really yummy though.”

“Mmm, bet you thought so.” His Daddy says with a nod, his eyes shining like Stevie’s the best thing he’s ever laid them on. He finally, finally pulls the plug out of Stevie’s pussy. It makes a loud squelching noise. Stevie whimpers as he feels all the day’s cum leaking out of him. There’s so much but it’s not nearly as much as he wants. He’s so excited for his Daddy to fuck him!

But as his Daddy prods a finger into his gaping, needy pussy, he raises an eyebrow. And then he starts to frown.

Stevie hates when his Daddy seems upset, so he kisses him really, really sweet and continues his story. “–And it was even better when they moved me onto the couch and Jim got under me and shoved his cock right back in. And then Larry got on top and shoved in too! And I got to suck Ted’s cock while Jim and Larry both fucked my pussy at the same and–”

His Daddy keeps prodding his pussy so full but his frown comes back. Stevie hates the way it twists his handsome face. “God, sweetheart, you're so loose in there.”

Stevie frowns too. Was he upset at him? He thought he was being such a good slut? Stevie bats his eyelashes and pouts. “'MSorry.”

“Baby,” His Daddy looks him in the eye. Stevie blinks sheepishly back. “You can’t let them stretch you so wide like that. Your pussy is special, Bunny. If it stretches too much it won’t feel as good for my cock.”

“Oh no.” Stevie says and he means it. This is just like his panties. He really is bad at paying attention when he’s so focused on being a slut. He mutters under his breath, he’s so embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. Wanna feel the best for you.”

“Hey,” His Daddy presses a hand to his cheek. His smile is earnest, like sunlight. “I know you do, baby.”

He kisses Stevie again, soft, sweet, lingering. Kisses him like that’s all he wants, even though his big cock is so hard and it's twitching against Stevie’s clit and his stomach. Even though Stevie really really wants to feel his Daddy inside him, really needs him fuck him good and fill him up.

“Bunny?” He says as he pulls away, something strange flickering behind his gaze.

“Yes, Daddy?” Stevie bites his lip and blinks up at him. He hopes he can see how much he loves him.

He taps three times then clicks his tongue. It makes Stevie listen like, really, really good when he does that. “Don’t want you going back to work anymore. I can take care of ya just fine. Gonna be my little house bunny from now on, yeah, baby?” His voice is a little choked. His eyes are sparkling.

“Your house bunny?” Stevie wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded so nice, like his Daddy’s cock was gonna be in him all the time! Like he was constantly gonna be pumping cum into Stevie’s needy pussy. Filling him up with babies just like he promised. He’d be the best slut in the world!

“Does that mean I get to sit on your cock all the time?”

“Sure does, doll.” His Daddy brushes a strand of hair out of his face, smiles his brilliant smile.

Stevie bites his lip, he hopes he really means it when he says all the time. “Even when I’m sleeping?”

It’d feel so good for his Daddy to fill up his relaxed pliable little cunt while Stevie dreamt of him. His Daddy laughs, bright and true. “Especially when you’re sleeping.”

“You’ll be mine forever, baby.” He clicks as he lifts Stevie up again, meets his lips one last time before settling Stevie’s hips down, before sliding his massive cock all the way into Stevie’s pussy.

“All yours, Daddy,” Stevie moans. He feels so full. He’s never been happier. He loves his Daddy so much. He’ll love his Daddy forever. “All yours.”

——————————

“Dude, I just had the weirdest dream.”

The sun is beaming orange through the loft windows and Eddie is still half-asleep, wild hair spayed over the pillows, mussed cutely into his mouth. He is starfished on the bed.

“Wha– was that?” Eddie sputters, choking a cough through the dry hair. Wet dog, Steve thinks fondly.

He repeats himself, “Just had the strangest dream, baby.”

Eddie flips over, ever-impressive in his ability to switch from dead to the world to totally alert. He props an elbow, rests his head on his hand, rakes his eyes over Steve’s body. They catch on his particularly bruised ass. Eddie lets out a low, laughing whistle like he always does, whistles like he bagged Miss America. Really, he just bagged Steve. “Tell me about it, Harrington.”

Steve gestures out, “Had a dream you hypnotized me.”

Eddie snorts, “Hot.”

“Yeah. Okay. But it was like, elaborate, man.”

His eyes are twinkling, “How so?”

Steve yawns, “Like I was your patient, dude.”

Eddie shrugs with a grin, leans in for a morning breath kiss, “I mean, you were my patient, dude.”

Steve allows him it, licks a lip into the acrid taste and laughs, “Yeah, I know, but you just gave me like, ambien and your number. Totally different.” He takes a shaky breath, “Dream-you turned me into, like, a total mindless slut.”

Eddie’s eyes are shining bright. “Oh really?”

Steve’s brow goes to his hairline as Eddie grins in his space, “It kinda like, freaked me out?”

“Did it?”

“Yeah. But Eddie, jeez, it was also like stupid hot.” Steve’s laughing at himself. It really was a strange dream. “I think I was weirdly into it? Like, obviously I wouldn’t like it all the time.”

“Obviously.” Eddie echoes, teasing, stupid grin plastered all over his face. Steve wants to kiss it off him.

“But it was nice to not have to really think for a while.” Steve admits. “Just let you take the reins.”

“Damn.” Eddie mutters under his breath. “Even over, you still want it, huh?”

Steve looks at him quizzically. “What was that?”

“Nothing, baby. Forget I said anything.” Eddie clicks his tongue. Taps three times. “You’re so safe with me, doll.”

Steve thinks maybe he’ll ask him about it again later, but honestly, he’s pretty tired right now.

They’ve got nowhere to be and all the time in the world. So Steve nestles into his husband’s side, safe and warm and comfortable, and he falls right back to sleep.