Why are you asking me all of this? I already filled it out on the form I gave to your receptionist." When he realizes it he stops, then pushes his feet flat to the ground with his hands on his knees. Lucas's toes tap the floor in time to the pen clicking. He nods again, clicks his pen, but doesn't write anything down. Deep steely eyes catch Lucas's and he's trapped. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Lucas." He looks at the clipboard again, then writes something down. "Yes." He coughs to cover his embarrassment. Lucas flinches, even just hearing the word makes him upset. hmm." Ral clicks the pen again a few times before he continues. Anyway, Lucas," (the way he says Lucas's name makes his flesh break out in goose pimples), "you are here because. Creates a division between folk, creates unnecessary boundaries. I cannot stand formalities like 'doctor' or 'mister'. The smell of the incense had quickly filled the room, and it somehow made him feel softer around the edges. Ifson." Lucas was trying hard to hold onto his anger, but it kept slipping away like a beach ball in the ocean surf, a little farther with each wave. "You can call me by my first name, if you prefer." This smile feels genuine, and it quickly cools his temper, though he doesn't know why. Ifson, no, not doctor, whatever the man across from his was, he smiles. "I suppose that would be unprofessional of me, if I were a doctor."ĭr. Ifson, aren't you supposed to keep that stuff secret? Like the hippocratic oath, right?" "Excuse me?" Lucas snaps, caught flat footed by the lack of professionalism. I knew a Lucas before, bit of a twat, if you will pardon my language." Lucas tilts his head to the side, lips pursed, his annoyance sidestepping his manners. Seventeen more clicks from when he started counting again before the man clears his throat. He shifts uncomfortably, looking at anything but the man across from him. He'd stopped counting for a second, ready to finally begin his appointment, but the clicking starts again, even with the man's steel eyes on him. He counts forty six clicks before the man looks at him again. A moment later he smelled it, a woodsy, deep scent that reminded him of something familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what. Lucas didn't see a lighter, but the incense cone was already smoking, and the man returned to his chair. He watched as the man took a small cone out of a box on the bookshelf, then placed it on a small dish he'd overlooked. Lucas pulled back and held it to his chest. He walked around Lucas's chair, trailing a finger over his bare arm. He turned back around to find the man had stood up, though he hadn't heard it. He turned around, but there was nothing there, just the closed door, a clock, and a mostly empty bookshelf.
The man was looking at something behind him.
Lucas looked up, nervous to catch the man's eyes again, but he couldn't stop himself. He fought to keep from squirming in his chair, then looked down, unable to hold his gaze. The man looked up at him again, those steely eyes making him uncomfortable. Lucas was skeptical, the information on the clipboard couldn't possibly have been his information, he'd given it to the girl at reception, she'd been still copying it when he'd been called back. He looked over his clipboard, then up, his steel colored eyes measuring him up before returning to the clipboard. The suit was grey, almost black, but not quite, and the pen was driving him crazy, especially since the man hadn't said anything to him since welcoming him in, other than to take a seat. He clicked his pen repetitively, constantly pulling Lucas's attention back to the expensive looking writing utensil. The olive-skinned man sitting across from Lucas Collins wore a crisp, well tailored suit, impossibly wrinkle free, even with his legs crossed. Heads up, this chapter contains: gay male content, mild mind control. Let me know if you like it and want more chapters. I felt like writing something that was just smut, and here it is.