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“Looks like cool but sunny weather the rest of the week,” the doctor said conversationally, his fingers prodding his throat and down his neck, checking the size of his lymph nodes and any swollen glands. “Nothing I like better to see in the forecast. I don’t know about you, but I can’t tolerate getting wet during the change. I don’t know what it is about it, but it’s like I can’t get dry for a week after.”
Lowell gave a short bark of laughter at the doctor’s words as the man ran gloved fingertips in a straight line down his chest, pausing to prod his pectorals, palpating around each nipple.
“Oh, I understand that all too well. I was in Vietnam for a few months a couple of years back, and it rained every day. Every single day. Three moons in a row — downpour. I didn’t think I would ever be dry again.”
The doctor chuckled, pressing on his abdomen, feeling down to his naval before working his way around his back to poke at his kidneys. Lowell tried focusing on what he would doafter, asthe examination continued. They would each go their separate ways. He would exit first, leaving the premises. The clinic was very clear about that: he was not to linger. The donors were to depart once they and the patient had ceased relations, and then they were to leave. It was closely monitored, with tight security. He would go home alone that day, and there was no way around it.
“Big breath in . . .”
The stethoscope with an icy kiss against the inferno of his chest, and he attempted not to flinch away.Why does it matter? This is a transaction. You’re just a donor. She’s a patient. That’s all this is. Altruism, remember? Isn’t that why you’re doing this?
“. . . And out.”
His inner voice spoke truly, and he knew he ought to listen. His squishy gumdrop heart, unfortunately, didn’t seem to care. He had been unable to stop thinking about Moriah since the afternoon they’d spent together.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the brightness of her smile, the sparkle of her emerald eyes, or the flush that spread up her lovely face every time their eyes met for more than a second or two. He couldn’t stop imagining her graceful hands, like small white doves, still able to feel their warmth engulfed in his larger one. His mind could not stop re-creating the way her dark red hair had caught the sunlight as they sat in that small park, making it burn like fire, and the soft sigh she had made when he had kissed her for the first time still echoed between his ears.
“Drop your shorts, please. Don’t worry, we’re almost done.”
He’d been semi-erect for the past several days, a side effect of the approaching moon and his twisted, tangled thoughts and dreams, but if the doctor had any issue with the sight of his thickened cock as Lowell hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down far enough over his ass that they slid to his knees on their own, the man had the good grace to keep it to himself.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the softness of her skin and the sweet smell of her. He couldn’t stop mentally recreating the way her breasts fit so neatly in the palm of his hands, the way her fingers tightened in his hair as he licked her, couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious taste of her cunt, and how perfectly it had squeezed his cock. His mind couldn’t forget the sight of the long, white column of her throat, presented to him as her head dropped back while he fucked her, and he was sure he would never be able to stop hearing the high-pitched little noise she made when she came, her muscles clenching around him.
His cock twitched, and he had to remind himself the hand holding it belonged to this white-haired doctor, not the woman he was pining over like a teenager. His rational mind knew he was being checked for a visual indication of an STI, but as his foreskin was drawn back over his cockhead, his eye twitched, wishing it were a smaller, softer hand doing the prodding.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Moriah, and perhaps more insidiously, he couldn’t stop dreaming of her either. He revisited everything they had done together in that hotel room bed numerous times, his mental masturbation fodder for the past week, but the soft REM cycle dreams he had in the hours before waking were much more dangerous.
He imagined waking with her in his bed —hisbed, his actual bed, back in his apartment in Tokyo. Of course, the apartment was no longer his, but in the dream, it didn’t matter. He would wake her with a trail of soft kisses up the side of her neck and across her rosebud lips, finishing at her upturned nose. He made excellent egg and miso soup, which he would make for her, and scallion pancakes, full of vegetables and fried crisp, and in his dream, she sat watching him in the tiny kitchen, happy and complacent as he waited on her. They would be hand-in-hand as he pulled her through a wet market or a bazaar, up the steep rock face of a mountain, or through the thick underbrush of a jungle, all places he’d been, places she confessed to only seeing in pictures. She wanted to see the world, and he desperately wanted to show it to her.
Jackson, Grayson, and Trapp all had cabins on Shadowbend Lake, deep in the woods, secluded and peaceful, and their father had bought up a chunk of the surrounding land a few years back, intending to build similar structures for the three sons who had not yet been born when their grandfather had willed his possessions and legacy to the eldest three Hemming grandsons. Lowell had no idea why the project had stalled, but the cabins had not yet been built.
That didn’t stop his dreaming mind from creating a scenario of him and Moriah in the woods together. She would baby him after the change, keeping him in bed, wrapped in her arms as muscle and bone knit themselves back into his familiar form, the soreness that always accompanied the day after the moon a bit less sharp snuggled against her warmth. Waking up in his bed and Grayson’s house was always a disappointment, and his throat would stick when he remembered that he was merely a donor, a third wheel under his brother’s roof, an aggravating, often troublesome footnote in his family, and ultimately a stranger to her.
When he wasn’t dreaming of her, he was turning over this entire situation in his mind, still unable to make heads or tails of her reasoning or rationale. He didn’t understand why she was doing this when she had expressed her desire to travel with so much longing. She was young, beautiful, and had nothing tying her down.
He didn’t understand why she was choosing to dothis, choosing to have a baby with a stranger to raise entirely on her own, particularly as it didn’t seem that there was any issue with fertility on her end. She’d not been able to conceive with her ex-husband, and on more than one occasion during a conversation, Lowell had to bite back the impulse to remind her that he was out of the picture, and a good thing, from the sounds of it. His hands had clenched the sheets in annoyed frustration when she casually mentioned the fact that she’d not celebrated holidays because her ex-husband hadn’t, even though she had grown up celebrating Christmas and had seemed to enjoy her community’s Solstice celebration.
She should have left the cranky fuck at home and gone out on her own to have a good time. Who knows, maybe she would have met someone sooner.Lowell tried to imagine meeting Moriah at the spiced brandy-soaked festival, the cold leaving the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose red, her lips begging to be kissed by someone who would appreciate their softness. He wasn’t Grayson had no desire to be a homewrecker all over town, but if the power to go back in time with his current knowledge was one he possessed, Lowell would be propelling himself backward without a moment of hesitation. He didn’t fancy the idea of being the cause of someone else’s unhappiness, but if he had run into Moriah at whatever community’s solstice festival she was attending alone, he would’ve been more than happy to kiss the frown off her face and fuck a delirious a smile on to it, her miserable double-dicked asshole husband be damned.
She hadn’t mentioned there being any issue beyond their biological incompatibility. Lowell hadn’t wanted to ask, knowing that was the height of rudeness and that his mother would probably feel the phantom ripple down her back from wherever she was, seeking him out to thwack him upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. He couldn’t fathom why she had been single since her divorce, particularly if she wanted a baby so badly; he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t simply thrown herself back into the dating pool to find a partner to share this experience with. It seemed to him there was no better time to go out and see the world, have a baby with someone she loved when she came back from a real adventure in a year or two . . . But that wasn’t his business.Nothing that happens outside of this room concerns you. You’re just the donor.
“Turn your head and cough,” the doctor instructed, cupping his testicles and probing to ensure there was no danger of herniation. “All right, we’re all finished here. Chart looks good; I think we are ready to proceed. You certainly seem ready for it,” he chuckled, pulling off his gloves as Lowell’s half-mast erection bobbed indignantly. “You’ll be notified over the intercom when you can enter the room, and when you’re finished, you’ll come back through these doors, collect your things, and exit through the security hallway. Itismonitored. Best of luck, and a good turn to you this week.”
“Yeah, um. Same to you. Have a good turn. Stay dry out there.”
The doctor laughed again on his way out the door, leaving Lowell alone.Almost time to do your only job.He had no idea what he was supposed to have worn, but he had a feeling his distressed, button-fly jeans had been a poor choice. He nearly put his foot through the opening at the knee that morning, hopping on one foot to keep from stumbling over into the television in his bedroom, low-key relieved that Grayson and Vanessa were at their apartment in the city and there was no one to witness or overhear his yelp of panic when he nearly toppled, stubbing his toe in the process.
Lowell realized that every time he had imagined this part of the process, he had been wearing a sterile hospital gown, he and Moriah both. It seemed almost comical now, but it was the image his mind had conjured and the one he’d not let go of. Finding himself without the paper covering now was quite honestly a bit of a letdown.
His only choices seemed to pull his boxer briefs back up or forgo them entirely.You’re going to be fucking her in a few minutes. What difference does it make what you’re wearing? You’re going to be taking it off!He had always looked for the straightest path forward. Shaking his leg, he let the dark gray fabric fall to the floor, scooping it up and placing it with the rest of his clothes on the chair near the door. There was nothing left to do but wait.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to wait long.
“You may proceed.”
She was perched on the edge of the exam table, gripping the sides in a way that gave proof to her nerves, even if she was attempting to hide that with her daintily crossed ankles. When his door opened, her head snapped up, her mouth dropping open at the sight of him. He was prepared for her declaration of all-consuming lust, all for him, hardly able to contain herself. Lowell felt his cock twitch again at the mere thought. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped sundress in a soft, stretchy T-shirt material that he couldn’t wait to divest her of.Definitely not a hospital gown. Her dark red hair was pulled up in a slightly haphazard bun, and her little white hands covered her mouth as she gazed at him . . . in horror. His cock frowned.
“Lowell! Why are younaked?!”
