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Javier’s broad body fills my vision, and a finger under my chin tilts my head up. I meet his concerned gaze uncertainly. He frowns. “Talk to me.”

Forcing a shaky breath, I whisper, “I need to do my shot.”

“Shot?”

“Testosterone,” I clarify.

“Okay,” he responds, encouraging. “May I be with you?”

I’m not expecting that. “Um, sure.”

Javier nods. “Go get your things.”

I do as he asks, moving on autopilot to my bags where I keep my medical kit. When I get back to the kitchen, Javier has cleared off a section of the counter. I approach, a sliver of uncertainty still stuck in the back of my head. Javier moves aside and gestures to the open space. “Will this work?”

I hadn’t considered Javier might be as nervous as I am about getting things right. Now, looking at him, I see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. “It’s perfect,” I say, and then add, “At home, I do it on the kitchen counter so Damian can be with me. I don’t like needles, but it’s better if I’m not alone.”

He watches carefully as I disinfect the counter and then set down my kit. It’s a straightforward enough process: strip down to boxers, clean my hands, and grab my individually packaged syringe, vial of medication, and alcohol wipes. After six years of taking T, I’ve got it down.

I’m used to having Damian as an audience, but everything feels different with Javier watching. His eyes follow my movements as I prep the correct dose and clean the middle of my quad, trying to relax the muscle as much as possible. Even as the needle pierces my skin, I feel him right there with me, his steady presence a reminder I’m not alone.

Quickly, I deposit the needle into my portable sharps container. Once that’s dealt with, I let out a ragged breath and press an alcohol swab against the injection site. Javier moves closer, hands hovering above my thigh. “May I,” he asks, looking from his hands to my face.

As soon as I nod, he’s replaced his hand with mine, holding steady pressure against my skin. After a minute, he pulls it back, checking to make sure there’s no bleeding, before starting to gently massage my quad. It’s barely sore, more like a bruising ache, and the careful touch feels like what I never knew I needed in the tender moments following this ritual.

“You are incredible,” he says, voice quiet, and reverent.

I shrug, feeling oddly vulnerable. “It’s only a needle. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I am not talking about the needle, Aleks. I am talking about everything you have done and who you have become. You are brave,” he pauses, leaning close and pressing a kiss to my forehead. His beard tickles my nose. “You are the strongest man I know.”

It’s funny, the way those words land on my skin like water, trailing over me until I’m submerged in the kind of affirmation I’ve always wanted. It feels so good, so fucking good, I can’t help but ask: “Say it again. Please, say it again.”

“Good boy,” he whispers as his hand trails down, knuckles dragging over my cock. “Such a strong, brave boy.”

“Javier,” I beg, voice cracking.

He kisses me, stealing my breath and what little bit of coherence I had remaining. I sink into him, meeting his mouth and tongue and touch with equal enthusiasm. His hand rubs my cock firmly, the friction sending hot, overwhelming throbs through me.

I tear my mouth from his, trailing kisses over his coarse beard and licks down his neck. His skin tastes like salty sweat, and I latch on, sucking hard enough to bruise. I don’t care, loving the idea that I might mark him, and he’ll move through the village and everyone will know he’s mine.

He fondles my cock, each movement of his hand intent on pleasure. I squirm under his attention, needing more fucking more please.

I hike a leg up around his waist, opening my body to him as much as I can while holding myself upright. The low, pleased groan he makes as his free hand shifts to grip my ass has me canting my hips forward, meeting each of his touches with as much force as I can.

When Javier’s hand stops, I cry out, empty and aching in the absence of him. “What the fuck,” I whine.

“Watch your language, boy.” I get a hard slap to my cock, sending a sharp and hot throb through my body. “Shower,” Javier commands, pressing a hard kiss to my lips.

My legs are trembling as I follow him over to the small bathroom. He gets the shower on before turning back to me and, without any further conversation, removes the rest of my clothes. When I step out of my briefs, he reaches down, and with a gentleness that makes my chest tight with emotion, he lifts my packer up in his hand.

I picked the packer I did for a number of reasons. Good reviews, durable material, and realistic feel and appearance. It’s flaccid, not overly large, and uncut around the swell of the head.

Javier brushes his thumb over the shaft, and looks up at me. “I love your cock,” he says, voice reverent. “Both of them.” He nods at my crotch where my own t-dick protrudes, hard and flushed. Setting the packer next to the sink, he removes his own clothing.

I watch him hungrily as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the thick, dark hair covering his chest and belly. His nipples are pink buds on his full, soft chest, and I make a note to suck on them later. Tugging his shorts and boxers down his strong, equally hairy legs reveals his thick cock, already getting hard where it sits above his low hanging, heavy balls.

The man is a wet dream, every inch of him. Steam billows around us, and I wonder if I can convince him to fuck me bent over the countertop where I can watch him in the fogged mirror.