Friday, 6:55 a.m. - Western Estates Executive Health Clinic

Mark greeted him with the same polished smile. “Good morning, Mr. David. Dr. Johnson and Mr. Trevor are waiting in Suite 3.”

David exhaled, steeling himself. A year in the top job had made him confident in boardrooms, but this room still turned him into the same nervous, half-aroused candidate he’d been twelve months ago.

Trevor leaned against the counter as David entered, sleeves rolled up, looking every inch the man in charge.

“Morning, CEO,” Trevor said, eyes raking over him. “Let’s see if you’ve been taking care of my investment.”

Dr. Johnson didn’t waste time. “David, please disrobe completely. Robe’s on the hanger.”

David stripped efficiently: jacket, shirt, belt, trousers. When he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his blue Andrew Christian briefs and slid them down, Trevor’s low hum of approval was unmistakable.

“Still my favorite briefs on you,” Trevor murmured.

David’s cock twitched at the attention. He slipped into the plush spa robe and climbed onto the table.

Vitals, eyes, ears, throat, heart, lungs — everything moved briskly until the robe was pushed off his shoulders and Dr. Johnson finished the chest exam.

“Up,” the doctor said, gesturing David to his feet. “Hands at your sides.”

David stood barefoot on the warm carpet, completely exposed. Dr. Johnson stepped in front of him, gloved hands gentle but clinical as he began the genital exam: lifting David’s penis, rolling back the foreskin slightly, inspecting the head and shaft, then moving down to palpate each testicle in turn.

“Healthy color, no lesions, good symmetry,” Dr. Johnson said, almost to himself. Then he glanced at Trevor.

“Mr. Trevor, since you oversee executive wellness so closely, why don’t you confirm the findings? Same technique I just used.”

Trevor’s eyebrow lifted in pleasant surprise. He stepped forward without hesitation, rolling up his sleeves another inch.

“Gladly, Doctor.”

David’s breath caught as Trevor took his place. Trevor’s hand was warmer, less clinical, but he followed Dr. Johnson’s instructions precisely: lifting David’s now half-hard cock, inspecting the glans, running a thumb along the underside, then cupping and gently rolling each testicle.

“Very nice,” Trevor said, voice low. “Responsive, well-groomed, excellent vascularity.” His eyes flicked up to meet David’s. “You’ve been following orders.”

David swallowed hard, trying to keep his hips still. “Yes, sir.”

Dr. Johnson nodded approvingly. “Agreed. Turn around, David. Hands on the table — rectal and prostate portion next.”

David obeyed, bending forward, forehead resting on his stacked forearms as the familiar snap of gloves sounded behind him.

Trevor stayed close, one hand settling possessively on the small of David’s back.

“Relax for the doctor,” Trevor said quietly. “You know how this part goes. It won't take long. Your doing great.”

Cool lube, the slow press of a finger, the deliberate curl against his prostate. David exhaled shakily, pushing back just enough to take it.

“Still perfectly healthy,” Dr. Johnson announced. “And still beautifully reactive.”

Trevor’s hand slid up David’s spine, a silent praise.

When it was over and David was catching his breath, Dr. Johnson peeled off his gloves. “blood draw, then you’re done. Excellent annual check-up."

Trevor stepped forward, eyes warm with unmistakable pride. He rested both hands lightly on David’s bare upper arms, giving the hard biceps a slow, appreciative squeeze.

“Look at you,” Trevor murmured, voice low and approving. “Twenty-nine years old and in the best shape of your life. Strong, disciplined, perfectly maintained. I’m proud to have you leading this company.”

His thumbs traced once along the curve of David’s arms before he released him and turned to the neatly folded clothes Mark had arranged on the chair.

Trevor picked up David’s blue briefs and handed them to him. Next, the charcoal suit trousers first and held them open. “Step in.”

David did, letting Trevor draw the trousers up his legs and over his hips, fingers brushing skin just long enough to make David’s pulse jump. Trevor zipped and fastened the pants with deliberate care, then smoothed the fabric along David’s thighs.

Next, Trevor lifted the crisp white dress shirt and slid it onto David’s shoulders. David pushed his arms through the sleeves and began buttoning from the bottom up. When he reached the collar, Trevor was already there with the navy silk tie.

“Allow me,” Trevor said quietly.

He looped the tie around David’s neck, standing close enough that David could feel the warmth radiating from him. Trevor’s fingers worked the knot with practiced ease—tight, perfect, the dimple centered exactly right—then slid the knot snug against David’s throat. He smoothed the tie down David’s chest, letting his palms linger for a second over the firm muscle beneath the cotton.

Finally, Trevor retrieved the suit jacket, held it for David to slip into, and adjusted the lapels with a possessive little tug.

“There,” Trevor said, stepping back to admire the full effect. “Back to looking like the sharpest CEO in the country.”

David met his gaze, throat dry. “Thank you, sir.”

Trevor’s smile was slow and knowing. “My office. Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Mark guided David to the next room for his lab draw, as Trevor walked out of the room and in the opposite direction.