Dependent Coverage Year

1. Prologue: Twenty Minutes Left

The paper sheet had warmed under Ethan’s back and the backs of his thighs. His heels rested in the stirrups, knees fallen open, the gown bunched uselessly at his waist. Cool air from the vent moved across his chest and lower belly, raising the fine hairs there. Dr. Wolf’s gloved fingers were already inside him—two of them, slick, pressing upward in a slow, deliberate circle that found the same swollen place each time and held. The pressure was steady enough that Ethan’s cock lay thick and heavy against his stomach, the head flushed dark, a clear thread of fluid already stretching from the slit down onto the paper.

Victor stood at the head of the table. Ethan could not see his face, only the shadow of his shoulder and the slow flex of one hand against the vinyl edge. The doctor’s free palm rested low on Ethan’s abdomen, pinning the base of his cock so nothing could hide. Every small pulse was visible. When the fingers inside him curled, Ethan’s hips tried to lift; the stirrups and the doctor’s hand kept him flat. A fresh bead welled at the tip and slid down the underside. The sound of it was small and wet in the quiet room.

Victor shifted his weight. The sole of his shoe scraped once against the linoleum. Ethan’s breath caught and stayed high in his chest. The doctor’s thumb stroked once beneath the head, not clinical now, just a slow drag through the slick already there. Ethan’s cock jerked hard enough that both men felt it—Victor’s fingers tightened on the table edge, the doctor’s palm pressed firmer. More fluid leaked, thicker, running in a warm line over the doctor’s glove and onto Ethan’s skin.

Ethan turned his face toward the wall. The vent hummed. Somewhere beyond the closed door a phone rang once and stopped. Victor’s hand left the table. For a moment Ethan thought he would step back. Instead the hand settled on Ethan’s shoulder, thumb resting in the hollow above his collarbone, warm and dry. The fingers inside him pressed again, deeper, and held. Ethan’s thighs trembled against the stirrups. His cock throbbed, leaking steadily now, the fluid pooling in the dip of his navel before it spilled.

Victor’s thumb moved, once, against the skin of Ethan’s shoulder. The doctor’s fingers stayed buried. No one ...