tagBDSMA Perfect Fit Pt. 14

A Perfect Fit Pt. 14

byumami©

"What happened to the old couch?" Mark asks. Dr. Z.'s decor looks shabbier and all in shades of phthalo. Is that the velveteen couch from his loft? The doctor's mumbled reply sounds like it's coming from underwater; Mark's brain can't seem to put the words in order. 'I must need new meds,' he thinks.

"Your eyes are different, too."

"I got new glasses. It's no cause for alarm, Mark."

His patient is uncertain, but trusting. Are Dr. Zavodny's eyes... swirling?

"I had sex with a man," he blurts out. The heat Mark feels spreading over his skin isn't from shame. It's sudden, intense arousal. He looks down at his growing erection. It keeps growing. "Oh. That's weird."

"It's not weird, baby," the doctor replies. "Go ahead and make yourself more comfortable. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Mark complies. 'Since when do I have tartan trousers?' he wonders as he unzips.

In an instant, Dr. Z. is seated beside him on the out-of-place couch. He smells like strawberry shampoo. His tie is missing and his shirt's unbuttoned to reveal fading tattoos, also moving under a smattering of white hairs, swirling like his fingertips on Mark's alien organ.

"You're both of them, aren't you?" he realizes. "Are they part of you?"

Dr. Zavodny opens his mouth but doesn't speak. He opens wider and wider, the inside of his mouth black as night. It occurs to Mark that the man's swallowed his teeth just to consume him. He strikes like a snake, shocking him with horror and heavenly pleasure.

* * * * *

Mark jerks awake with a cry just as the doors are closing. He dashes and twists sideways to make it through in the nick of time. Oh, shit. He finds himself two stops past where he'd intended to get off, nearly getting off in his dreams and his pants with a demonic psychiatrist. 'I guess I have something else to talk about,' he thinks as he begins to run through the park to make it to his appointment on time.

He's glad to find he's still gripping the bag containing a small gift for his doctor. That was probably against the rules, but it seemed time to give him some kind of token. He's not really sure why he did it, but has a feeling the shrink will tell him.

He's a few minutes late. Fortunately, the office door is still shut and there are muted voices on the other side. He's still with another patient. Mark sheds his coat and sweater, hot from his unexpected run. It makes him vividly recall that fucked up dream. His knee bounces as he sits in the waiting room; he's excited to talk about recent developments. He's also scared the doctor won't approve, might even be mad at him. He'd hate that.

As Mark predicted, the patient exiting the consulting room looks terrible. Dr. Z. was not one to run overtime unless someone was in trouble. The woman's face is damaged with cuts and bruises. They've been treated, but she's far from all right. The sight pains Mark: She wasn't in an accident. Dr. Z embraces her and says "It's all going to be okay." It's a platitude, but he says it with a real conviction that could comfort anyone.

He smiles at Mark and gestures for him to go through, then walks the woman out, speaking in confidential tones. On his return, the smile's gone. "Well. That was exactly what it looked like. I hope that wasn't too upsetting for you." The doctor doesn't hide he's shaken and needs a moment before they can get into anything heavy.

"Some bastard did that, right?"

The doctor is not really allowed to answer, but gives a barely perceptible nod. "There is a lot of unnecessary misery in this world, as you know all too well."

"I got you somethin' that might cheer ya up. Don't know if it's allowed, but..."

Dr. Zavodny's thin lips quirk up into a little grin. It's a pleasant contrast to the gaping maw of his erotic nightmare. "As long as it's not your ear or something, it's allowed. Thank you, Mark."

They sit down. Mark sees the doctor note the way he scans the room quickly, as if he's checking for something. "Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah, it's just that I had a dream it was all different in here. I'm glad it's the same."

"I'll make a note to tell you if I redecorate, just so you don't think you're losing your mind. Now, what's in here?" Dr. Z. opens the small, crumpled shopping bag to remove a box tied with a ribbon.

"I remembered you sayin' you like chocolate, unless I dreamed that, too."

"I do indeed. And this is the good stuff. What kind is it?" he asks, pulling the ribbon untied.

"It's all fancy. 'Aztec' chili powder, gold dust..." Mark shrugs to express his ignorance of anything that bourgeois.

"Oh, you devil. Tom's going to be cross; I'm supposedly on a diet. Tell me about this dream you had." Dr. Z. chooses a truffle and carefully bites it. Mark is relieved both that he likes the present and that his white teeth are all in place.

"Well, uh, it's kind of awkward. You were in it..."

The shrink coughs politely as he works the sweet around on his tongue. "Sorry! The Aztec powder has a little kick. So, it was that kind of a dream, eh? Sex dreams and chocolates. Do we have some transference issues to discuss?" he laughs.

"You mean, am I comin' on to you?" Mark interprets bluntly.

"It was a joke. If I thought that, I wouldn't have said it."

"Ain't jokes a way of sayin' without saying for real?" Mark teases.

"Freud thought so. Go on, no deflecting."

Mark relates the dream. It's easier to describe than his other ones because this just happened. His doctor watches him with interest that's perhaps more than professional, but that's just to be expected. Even though dreams are his bread and butter, someone saying, 'You were in my dream' is tantalizing, especially if that someone is rather like a dream himself.

Dr. Z. puts the lid back on the box and carries it over to his desk. "To make them last. I tend to over-indulge," he explains. Returning to his chair he asks, "To clarify, did I actually eat your penis, or just go down on you?"

"I'm not sure. I woke up right before... the critical moment."

"I see. Want to know what I think?"

"Of course I do! I didn't tell you that for fun."

"I think there is something you want me to know that YOU might not even know you want me to know. Make sense? Like you see me as a powerful figure who can... suck information out of you. Isn't it interesting you brought me something nice to eat? Think maybe you were trying to appease me for some reason?"

"I knew you'd tell me why I did that. Why couldn't it just be that I'm nice and wanted to thank you?"

"Because you are not as simple as that and neither is this relationship. You are nice, Mark. It was a nice gesture. And it's one that almost no patient ever makes unless something is coming up for them. People do things for more than one reason."

"I guess I am afraid to tell you something. Seems lame to think chocolates could make you hate me less if you're gonna."

"I can't hate you," he says in the tone one uses to say the famous 'three little words.' "Tell me what it is and we'll talk about it."

"I had sex with a man."

"And that makes me hate you because..."

"No. I mean, since I last saw you. Jenni knows. She was there... with us. She loves him, too, like a brother."

Dr. Z. looks utterly unsurprised. Couldn't he at least feign surprise?

"... and I gave him a collar and he told me he's in love with me. Now I have both of them."

"I don't see yet what the problem is. You must love him, too. A collar is a serious thing, is it not? What is the part that you imagine will make me turn on you?"

So many thoughts arise at once it takes Mark a moment to pick a sentence and go with it. "I know how you feel about Jenni and that she's my responsibility. I thought maybe you'd think I don't take that seriously... like I'm ungrateful. I must look pretty selfish right now."

"Is she happy with the new addition?"

"Jesus. It was like I got her a pony. He's a great person and they like spending time together. They might be fooling around as we speak. If he's there, that is. We ain't all gonna live together yet."

"You'd need a bigger place. I'm guessing," the doctor adds quickly.

Mark laughs. "Or at least a bigger bed. My boy's a big guy."

Something about that makes Dr. Z. blush a little. Maybe it's an effect of the chili powder. "Your boy," he echoes, amused at the sound of it.

"Does that sound as strange to you as it does to me?"

"A little. I'll get used to it. Why is it strange to you?"

"Because I'm straight. Guess I was thinkin' it might be offensive to you, me owning a man who's in love with me if I'm not even bi."

The doctor flutters his hand in that way that means 'oh, please.' "Of course you are. Everyone is."

"Even you?"

"Well, not me. I'm pretty queer," he chuckles. "But no, two straight boys in love with each other isn't an insult to me or my husband. Privately, we'd call you bisexual, but the way you identify is not for anyone else to decide."

Mark feels a lead weight evaporate from his shoulders and his stomach. Why did his fucking brain give him a nightmare about this? The doctor is not mad at his recklessness, or even worried about them. He does have a word of advice: "As you begin this adventure, you might be tempted to favor him, give him more attention to make him feel welcome. That's exactly the opposite of what you should do: Jenni needs the reassurance and it will probably have to stay that way. Fair or not, she's the princess. Make sense?"

"She let me know as much. He gets it, too. I feel bad it can't be equal."

"Your words don't match your face right now. I've never known you to be one who smiles when he feels bad."

Mark touches his mouth thoughtfully. "You're right. I am smiling. They're both so sweet. But now it's more to lose, another person to get hurt."

"Is he especially vulnerable? I mean, like Jenni is. Or you, for that matter," Dr. Z asks softly.

"No, but he's sensitive. He's not crazy like we are."

"Glad to hear it. I'd tell you to take things slow, but I know you won't. He's already got a collar."

"Yeah, I didn't plan this, though. It just happened! I swear it."

"Please, Mark. You know better than that by now. Many things have 'just happened' to you in your life, but you're a man now. You made this happen."

Mark slumps at that. He made this happen and it was more than he deserves: A best friend who's now his proudly collared lover and the little girl he'd wanted for so long who worships him. The gravity hits him all at once.

"I can't believe I don't want to run away. But my brain won't let me just be happy. I can't get depressd again. I can't," he snarls at the universe.

"We won't let that happen, okay? What if we go up to two sessions a week for a while? You can't be happy if your guard is always up, trying to see the dangers ahead. Can you trust me to point out what you're not seeing so you can stop analyzing all the time?"

"Thought I was supposed to be analyzin'," he grouses. The doctor smiles because he's cute when he's moody.

"Not all the time. Not with all the sex you're probably having."

This earns him a devilish grin that Mark tries to wipe away. It lingers. The subject of sex always lightened this patient's mood. "Yeah. That turns my brain off. In a nice way, I mean."

They fall silent, but someone had better say something soon; now they're both thinking about sex, together, which is more awkward than discussing it. The professional takes control.

"When you told me, like you were confessing, I might add, that you had sex with a man, did you mean you had sex with him or that you two had a threesome with Jenni?"

"Both. Why does that matter?"

"I don't know that it does, yet. Maybe I was curious what a straight Dom owning a male sub looks like."

"We kiss. I love kissin' him. And I let him fuck me."

Dr. Z. sighs. "Because things just happen to you, right?"

Mark corrects himself: "I told him to fuck me. I told him to because I like the feel of it and it was good. It was his first time, too, with a guy."

"Much better, Mark."

"Is that weird? I mean, that I'm the bottom, or whatever? I guess this is the other reason I was scared to tell ya about this. I'm outta my depth."

The doctor tries to hide his amusement, but the young man's inexperience is charming. First times are fun, even to vicariously enjoy.

"I don't have a special claim on sodomy, Mark. Sounds like you did just fine. And no, who puts what where has nothing to do with who's dominant. Did you try it the other way?"

"Um, about that. I'm askin' you as a doctor, not as a gay guy, okay? Are there some people who just don't fit each other? I know he wants that, but I don't want to hurt him. I know there's training involved, but I don't want to disappoint him if that don't work out."

Dr. Z. reaches for his water glass to find it empty. To his surprise, Mark gets up and refills it from the cooler in the waiting room, unasked. Mark's caregiver mode is on display and he notes it on his pad.

"Thank you. What you're describing is more a relationship issue than a physical one. He'll only be disappointed if he thinks he's failed you. You won't let him feel bad about it. After all, look how fragile Jenni is. You don't hurt her, do you? Just talk to him with the same loving care. And for what it's worth, you'd be truly amazed at what some people can fit up their asses. That's me speaking as a doctor and a gay guy."

Mark's jaw drops. Their time is up, anyway. Both men are pleased: This has been a productive session that's left them both in a better mood than they were at the start. For the second time in their acquaintance, Mark hugs his doctor at the door. This time, though, it's not quick. It's as if neither remembers how to let go.

Dr. Zavodny carefully places his hands on Mark's sides and steps back. He looks into his patient's startled eyes. "You'll consider going up to twice a week? I want you to know we won't let you get depressed again."

Mark nods, trusting as an abused child desperate to believe in a good man.

"Good lad. Now go home. I bet Jenni and Freddy are missing you by now."

Mark only nods again, glances at his watch, and dashes, as is his way. They'd run overtime, too. He's almost down to the first floor when he realizes: He'd never told him his boy's name was Freddy. He's sure he'd recall if he had because he still trips over the new name. He'd have called him Freek, then had to explain that, or else just hesitated enough. He'd remember saying the new name aloud outside of the loft.

"Zavodny must like to watch," he murmurs.

* * * * *

Upstairs, the doctor is pouring himself a needed glass of scotch. He caught his error right away. He, too, is talking to himself, practicing lying to his patient if called out. "Oh, really? No, you must have told me. It's quite possible you don't remember." Yes, lying was the way to go. Mark had just clearly shown him how much he needed to trust in him. On top of that, he'd just asked to see him twice as often. Mark couldn't know that he had a subscription to his porn site.

There's a tentative knock at the consulting room door, followed by a more assertive one when the doctor stands frozen in fear of the consequences. It has to be him. He has to be furious. Was it even safe to let him in? He's shocked, but he's afraid of his patient.

"It's open!" he calls to steady his quavering voice.

Mark strides in, no longer the vulnerable kid. His shoulders are square and he emanates true dominance. It's the kind that could break someone's jaw as much as seduce them.

"Can we talk about your little slip of the tongue or do I gotta make another appointment?" he drawls.

"We can talk. What do you mean?"

Mark shakes his head slowly as if disappointed in him. "Now I know why you weren't more worried about Jenni. Ya seen already how happy she is, how much she enjoys sex with two guys. You knew already how she's still my baby girl. I never said Freddy's name, I know I didn't."

Dr. Zavodny still stands behind his desk. He's less afraid for his safety, just afraid of what he's done to a perfectly good therapeutic relationship with someone who depends on him.

Mark takes off his long coat and throws it over the chair where the doctor usually sits. He glides toward him, slaps his big palms down on the other side of the desk and leans over it. "Well?" he growls. The glint in his eyes is some kind of new danger, but Lucien isn't worried because his patient isn't wounded. He's just very powerful in a way he should have inferred by now. He needs to find his voice, however, because this is excruciating.

"I'm sorry. It was wrong. I hope you can forgive me someday. I... I can recommend a good psychiatrist - someone better - so you'll continue your good work. This shouldn't have happened."

Mark runs his hand languidly through his hair. "So first you get off on my sex life without ever saying nothin', now ya throw me away? This just keeps gettin' better, doctor."

"I'd never throw you away! I know you may not believe it because of what I've done, but I care very deeply about you."

The beautiful boy smirks at him. His contemptuous look is arousing even as it breaks his heart to see it focused on him.

"How deep?"

"What?"

"How deeply do you care?"

"Too much. Too much and in the wrong way."

Before he can apologize again, Mark is circling around the desk. The atmosphere crackles with whatever physical contact is about to happen next. Lucien knows it's not another hug.

Mark steps right into his space, that handsome face he adores just inches away. His breath is oddly cool and sweet. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna give you what ya want and you'll show me just how well a man takes my cock. You're gonna come for me, thank me for it, and call me Sir while you're at it. Then, we forget this ever happened. You'll keep prescribin' my meds, keepin' me well, and you can even keep watchin' me with my submissives. I don't give a fuck about that. You'll do this for me," he states.

"Yes, Sir."

"Uh-huh. You got slick in one of these drawers, don't you?"

Lucien feels truly dirty that Mark assumes that and is correct.

"Good. Believe it or not, I'm not angry. I don't fuck angry. Feel how much I accept your apology." He presses his doctor's hand to his hard-on. "Now get undressed. You're gonna be completely naked and I'm not. That's only fair."

Lucien does as he's told. He's rock hard in a way that never even happens with a little blue pill anymore. It's like an overdose. It's like he's young again.

Almost tenderly, Mark bends him over his desk. He preps him with his trembling fingers. Lucien knows he feels different to the anal virgins he's got waiting at home. He hopes it will please him in a different way, though he's not young and beautiful anymore. Maybe he can make him feel good. He knows he can, and that he owes him everything. He's imagined making love with Mark many times, always romantic fantasies, never like this, but this was what he deserved.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I couldn't resist you."

"Then don't resist me now," Mark grunts and unzips torturously slowly. The doctor wonders if it's really the sound of his mind coming apart as well.

Mark, still clothed as he said, covers his naked back with his strong torso, bites into his neck, then whispers: "Wake up, Dr. Zavodny. Wake up, now!"

* * * * *

"Did you have a bad dream, honey?" Tom asks.

"Yeah. Oh, god. It was awful."

His husband slips a hand under the covers and into his shorts to feel just how awful it was. "What, did you dream you were a teenager?" he jokes.

"It's not funny!"

"You know that you talk in your sleep. I didn't know you had BDSM fantasies."

Lucien sighs, emotionally exhausted and more physically drained than in a very long time. "What did I say?"

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