“Boss, your 2 p.m. is here. Cute 22-year-old receptionist—name’s Ethan. Average height, average build, keeps himself trimmed nice and neat. Last night he let a guy with braces go down on him and… well, it left some damage. Scratches and little cuts all over his dick. Poor kid’s been walking around half-hard all day because every time he gets stiff the cuts reopen and sting like hell. He’s embarrassed as fuck but heard you’re the guy who knows how to handle ‘sensitive situations’ down there.”
I chuckled low, already feeling that dominant-protective alpha energy lock in. “Send him back. Let’s get my boy fixed up proper.”
Ethan walked in looking every bit the nervous young professional—average 5’9” frame, slim but not skinny, light brown hair neatly styled, clean-shaven face with a hint of flush already creeping up his neck. He was wearing a button-down and slacks that did nothing to hide the careful way he was walking, like every step pulled at something tender.
“Dr. Don,” he said, voice a little shaky as we shook hands. “I… I fucked up last night. This guy I met had braces and he was really into it, but now my dick looks like it went through a cheese grater. Every time I even start to get hard the cuts reopen and it burns. I don’t know how to bandage it or what to do—nothing stays on when I’m… you know… leaking.”
I gave him my cocky, reassuring smile and motioned to the warmed table. “Hop up, Ethan. Drop the pants and let me see the damage. No shame here, buddy. Braces guy clearly didn’t know how to handle a nice dick. We’ll get you sorted.”
He stripped down quick, cheeks burning. Once his slacks and briefs hit the floor, his trimmed package came into view—pubes neatly manscaped into a short patch above the base, smooth shaved balls, and a decent-sized cock that was already half-hard despite the pain. The shaft was covered in thin red scratches and a couple of shallow cuts, especially around the head and underside where the braces had dragged. A tiny bead of blood was already forming on one of the worst spots because the damn thing kept twitching and filling out under my gaze.
“Easy, handsome,” I murmured, gloving up and adjusting the bright lamp right over his groin. I ran my fingers gently through the trimmed pubes, then carefully cradled his shaft, turning it side to side to inspect every mark. “Looks like classic brace burn—sharp edges catching the skin while he was going hard. Not infected, but they’re fresh and reopening every time you chub up. That’s why it hurts.”
Ethan hissed through his teeth as his cock thickened fully in my hand, one of the cuts pulling open again and leaking a thin line of blood mixed with precum. “Fuck… see? It won’t stay soft. Every time I think about last night or get even a little turned on it happens again.”
I kept my touch light but confident, thumb gently pressing just below the head to steady him while my other hand grabbed the special wound-care kit I keep for exactly this kind of clumsy hook-up damage. “I got you, buddy. First we clean it, then we dress it right so it can heal without getting disturbed every time you pop a boner.”
I cleaned the scratches thoroughly with saline, then applied a thin layer of antibiotic ointment that wouldn’t sting. Instead of regular bandages that would just peel off with the next hard-on, I wrapped his cock in a loose, breathable silicone sleeve—soft, flexible, and designed to stretch with him so the cuts could stay closed even if he got fully erect. I rolled it down slow and careful, letting my bare fingers linger on his trimmed pubes and smooth balls while I made sure it fit snug but not tight.
“See that?” I said, voice low and dominant as I gave the sleeved shaft one gentle stroke from base to tip. “This’ll protect the cuts while you heal. You can still get hard—hell, you probably will every time you think about it—but the sleeve keeps everything from reopening. Change the ointment twice a day, keep the sleeve on for at least 48 hours, and no more brace guys until you’re fully healed. Got it?”
Ethan was breathing faster now, his cock straining against the soft silicone, the material stretching perfectly without pulling on any of the scratches. “Doc… it already feels better. But… fuck, just your hands are making me…”
I smirked, cocky and sweet, giving him one more slow, deliberate stroke through the sleeve. “Good. That means it’s working. Let it happen if you need to, Ethan. Show me how that trimmed little dick looks when it’s properly taken care of.”
His hips bucked once, eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm hit quick and needy. Thick spurts of cum pulsed into the sleeve, some leaking out the top and dripping down over his trimmed pubes while he whimpered softly, body trembling through the release. I milked him through every pulse, then carefully peeled the sleeve back just enough to clean him up again—wiping the fresh load off his shaft and balls, making sure none of the cuts reopened.
“Atta boy,” I praised, voice warm and protective as I slid a fresh sleeve on and taped it lightly in place. “All dressed and protected. You’re gonna heal up nice and fast. Come back in a week so I can check how those scratches are closing… and maybe teach you how to find guys who know how to suck a dick without turning it into a crime scene.”
Ethan sat up, flushed and relieved, pulling his slacks back up carefully over the sleeved bulge. “Thanks, Dr. Don. I feel… way less freaked out now. You really do have the best hands.”
I gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and shot him a wink. “Anytime, handsome. Stay protected, stay trimmed if you like it, and next time you want that dick sucked right… you know where to come first.”
He left walking a lot easier, that nervous receptionist energy replaced with quiet confidence and a visible tent in his slacks that the sleeve was already handling like a champ.
Troy slid in right after, raising an eyebrow. “Another satisfied customer with a wrapped-up dick and a fresh load, huh? You turning this place into a full-service wound care and relief clinic?”
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