“You got it. I’ll see you later.” I laugh and hang up the phone, then school my face when Bullseye and I meet eyes.
“What?” I snap, slamming my phone a bit harder on the table than necessary when I see Bullseye smiling at me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I forgot how close you were with your mom. It’s cute. A lot of the guys don’t have parents, and if they do, they don’t talk to them. How’s your mom doing? Is she good?”
I rub a hand through my hair when I think about her invite for dinner. I’m thirty-years-old, and she hasn’t been with anyone since Dad. If that isn’t it, then it’s bad news. I’ll be honest, when it comes to Mom, I don’t deal with bad news well.
“I’ll find out tonight. Thanks for asking.” I slap my hand against the desk and give him a grin. “Now, what can I do for you, Bullseye?” I stand up and open the medicine cabinet, getting the necessary items for a physical. Everything I need is in my office, including an exam table. “You know the drill,” I tell him.
And in typical Bullseye fashion, he yanks off his shirt and pants until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit. Usually people strip down to their underwear.
But Bullseye doesn’t wear underwear, so when he strips, I get to see the entire man. Surprisingly, Bullseye doesn’t have a single tattoo, but he does have a Jacob’s Ladder on his cock, and every time I see the damn thing, mine shrivels inside me. His nipples are pierced along with the space between his ass and his sack.
Yeah, I didn’t ask to see that, but I did a prostate check, and I was shocked, to say the least.
He lays down, and I do my best not to be bothered by complete nudity. I am a doctor after all, but I think what bothers me about Bullseye is how impersonal he is to being naked. I hate being naked. I hate my scars. I don’t even let women wrap their arms around me while we fuck. Usually, I put them face down ass up so the chance of them touching me is slim to none. I panic. I hate… touch. I don’t mind being the one doing the touching. I don’t even mind hugs when the arms are around my neck.
But my back is a hard fucking limit.
The first thing I do, is examine his chest. Breast cancer is a serious disease for men too. It is more common in women, but it can happen in men as well. I do tiny circular motions around each peck with the pads of my fingers, making sure I don’t feel any lumps.
“It’s weird every time you do this. I feel like you’re feeling me up. At least buy me a drink, Doc,” Bullseye chuckles at his own joke.
“You’re not my type, sorry,” I joke in return. “Okay, your chest is good.” I take out my stethoscope and place the cold metal against his chest without warming it up.
He hisses like he does every time. “Doc! It’s cold.”
“You throw darts at people for a living. You can handle it,” I grumble, listening to the steady beat of his heart. These guys are the toughest men I know, but absolute bitches when it comes to certain things.
Like Tongue loves knives and anything sharp.
He hates the blood pressure cuff. I have to give him an anti-anxiety pill so he can relax or his blood pressure would be through the roof.
Also, don’t let Tool fool you. He hates needles even though the bastard is covered head to toe in tattoos.
“Your heart is good.” I lay the stethoscope on the exam table and grab a stress ball, then a blue rubber band, and tie it around his arm to get the vein nice and plump.
“I’ve been eating my Cheerios every morning to help lower my cholesterol.”
“Your cholesterol wasn’t high to begin with, but healthy changes are good changes.” I ease the needle in his vein and then grab a test tube, pushing it against the needle. Red liquid fills the tube, and I look at Bullseye’s face and narrow my eyes at him when I see him looking around the room and swinging his legs. “Out with it. What do you need to talk about?”
“It’s embarrassing.” His cheeks turn a shade of pink.