The First Touch

Leo Hayes stood outside the exam room, his palms damp against his jeans. The clinic smelled of antiseptic and quiet judgment, but beneath it—sandalwood, from the doctor's office down the hall. He'd been on T for eight months, his jawline sharp, his voice dropped, but here, in this place, he felt every contradiction thrum under his skin. Dr. Vance opened the door, white coat crisp, eyes taking him in—not as a patient, but as a man. "Leo," he said, voice low. "Ready?" Leo's boycunt clenched, a hot pulse of want. He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them.