Practice

I was cold sober, I swear. I know how unlikely that sounds, it being me, but I was. I had a Literature exam, one that I actually had to study for. And I’m not so far gone that I think being drunk helps one study. I know that much. However, I still must have appeared drunk; the exam had really taken a lot out of me. I staggered up the steps to my flat, anticipating some wine perhaps, but mostly just my bed.

There was a note tacked to my door. This may not sound unusual, but I never get notes. Especially on my door. I shrugged, grabbed it, and collapsed into my rooms, leaning against the door. Rolling my eyes, I examined the note. “A. Grantaire” was all it said on the front. This, too, was odd; I tried to avoid using my first name, or even initial, wherever possible. Out of curiosity I unfolded it, reading. It said, simply, “Grantaire, come by my flat as soon as you get this. E. Combeferre.” It happened that I did know where he lived, but such a request from anyone, let alone Ferre, was odd.

I was still exhausted, but any excuse for a social occasion was welcome. Especially from one of the Amis. Especially Enjolras’ best friend. Pretend I didn’t say that, alright? In any case, my intentions were purely innocent: I would go, see what he wanted, and fall into bed.

His flat wasn’t far, and he opened the door when he saw me on the stoop. “Alain, excellent! I wasn’t sure you would come. Come in, you look exhausted.”

I was a little suspicious by now, and raised an eyebrow to denote this. “Firstly, never call me Alain. Better Winecask than that. Secondly…do forgive me if it seems rude, but…what do you want? I am exhausted.”

He simply bobbed his head at me, smiling and waving away my words. “Oui, oui. Again, merci for coming. This way.”

I rolled my eyes and followed him, knowing there was no way he would tell me what was going on until he was good and ready.

He led me to his bedroom. I took a moment to glance around; it’s not everyday I get to see another man’s bedroom. Most of the walls were filled with shelves, which in turn were full of books. The silly boy had even put shelves over his window. There was a paper-heaped item that might have been a desk, and the smallest bed possible for human habitation. There were no blankets on the bed, only a sheet and a pillow. I wasn’t surprised by any of it.

“Strip.”

I gaped at him for a moment. “What?”

“Strip!”

He moved towards me, as though he would remove my clothes himself. I automatically wrapped my arms around myself, staring at him. He stared back, impatiently.

“What do you mean, ‘strip’? You can’t just go around sending notes and bringing people to your bedroom and telling them to…disrobe!” However, it had worked once…maybe it had possibilities.

He laughed, putting one hand on his forehead, ignoring my accusation completely. “Ah, oui, you’re right. Forgive me. I did tell you what you were to come here for, didn’t I?”

Still staring at him, I shook my head.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at me. “Well…you know that I am in medical school…”

“Ferre? The entire civilized world knows you’re in medical school.” Suddenly feeling sulky, I added, “I bet you don’t even know my college, do you?”

“Later, later. Anyway. Part of our evaluation is Patient Treatment. I need to practice.”

“Does everyone practice?”

“I don’t know. Or care. There is a reason I’m at the top of my class, you see.”

“Let me phrase it differently…are you allowed to get such an advantage as extra practice?”

“Well, I don’t see why not! It’s not my fault that others don’t have friends…”

I held up a hand to stop him before he really got going. “Fascinating, I’m sure…but what does it have to do with me?”

“Oh, Alain, so suspicious…Enjolras said you would be.”

My suspicions grew. “Enjolras?”

“Oui, I said I was looking for volunteers, and he suggested you.”

“Do either of you know the meaning of ‘volunteer’?”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

He had a point. “What does all this have to do with me stripping?”

He gave an extraordinarily exasperated sigh. “Really, do I have to spell it out? Patient Treatment. I need to practice. Therefore, I need practice patients to, well, practice on.”

“Practice what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know…treatment.”

“Combeferre, you’re being vague. There’s nothing wrong with me, so there’s nothing to treat, so I should be going.”

“I’m being vague because I don’t know what I’ll be treating, because I haven’t examined you yet. And even if,” he looked at me rather sharply, “there is nothing wrong with you, I can still practice. Strip.”

I realized there was no way to win. Blushing slightly, I turned around and began removing my cravat. Glancing around, I saw he was still staring fixedly at me.

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what? You’re doing what I told you.”

I felt my blush deepen. “Oui, but…you don’t have to watch like that…”

“Well, I’m going to see it all, anyway. This is practicing my Clinical Distance.”

“Clinical…Ferre, you know me! I’m not some specimen, you know.”

“You are right now.” He was starting to sound sulky.

Again, he had a point. No one had forced me to come. I rolled my eyes, and undressed as quickly as possible, leaving my undergarments on.

“If you insist, for now, but eventually everything will come off. However, if you need that comfort for now, very well.”

“What exactly are you going to be doing?” I was a little nervous by now. I tried to avoid going to the doctor. Or being naked. The combination was rather unsettling.

Apparently he was off in Clinical Distance Land, and didn’t reply. I tried to force myself to relax, standing almost nude in my friend’s bedroom.

“Sit on the bed, Alain.”

I let his use of my name slide. Maybe it was part of his Clinical Distance scheme. I sat. He began running his hands over my hair and face, checking every inch. I must admit, it felt rather nice. I may have begun fantasizing, but really, I think I can be forgiven that. Besides, I had hardly been touched in almost six months, I didn’t even need to fantasize. He moved down to my neck, and began feeling my chest and back. I moaned softly, forgetting where I was. I heard a voice say, do that again, so I did. I felt a head being pressed against my chest, and instinctively put an arm around the person, half asleep.

Ferre rapped me, rather sharply, on the side of the head. “Alain, I can’t examine you if you keep touching me! Now, make that noise again.”

I shuddered slightly, deciding to pay attention from now on. And, a little hesitantly, moaned.

He frowned, then shrugged. “Ah, your chest sounded strange for a moment there. But it’s alright now. Would you like to listen? Oh. I suppose you can’t, can you. Never mind, then.”

I was beginning to remember why I tried to limit my Ferre-exposure. The boy took strange to whole new vistas.

He began poking at my chest. If I had been a woman, it would have been my breasts, but as it was…

Just as I tried to ask what exactly he thought he was doing, he moved to my nipples. It came out “Ferrewhatyoudoing…” in a breathy sigh. Touch. Six months. Anyway.

Nonchalantly, he answered, “Checking for peculiarities.”

I should have my peculiarities checked more often.

After what seemed ages, while I tried to restrain another moan, he finished, moving on to my abdomen. He frowned at my liver, prodded it rather mercilessly, but seemed to find it…however he was looking for it to be.

He then produced a stethoscope, frigid, of course, and clapped it onto my chest. I glared at it: I was quite cold enough sitting there naked, without its help. He listened intently for a while, until I wondered if there was anything in there, and stowed it away again.

I glanced around the room again, briefly. When I looked back, he was holding an unnecessarily large knife. I managed to restrain a shriek. Just.

“Combeferre. What are you doing with that? If this is some plot of Enjolras’ to get rid of me…”

He sighed, laughing softly. “It’s no such thing. I have to practice bloodletting. You don’t mind, do you?” Before I had a chance to respond, he continued, “Good. Now, hold still, and it won’t hurt as much.”

I froze. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine myself somewhere else. He drew me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I relaxed, drawing myself against him. He struck. My eyes flew open in surprise, just in time to see a thick line of red trailing along one wrist. I watched it, captivated, for a while and realized, it had actually felt kind of nice, being held by him, and the feeling of the knife…I had a moment to wonder about myself before turning to him and angrily sulking, “Ow!”

He smiled. “You were shaking. I was afraid of hurting you.”

“People who are afraid of hurting people usually aren’t carrying huge knives.”

“Oh, you knew I was going to do it, stop whining. Other wrist.”

A little reluctantly, but not without pleasure, I offered it to him. This time, I felt a shudder of near-joy run through me as he struck. At that instant, it was like I was connected to everything, and had never really been alive until that point. It was somehow freeing and exhilarating, though I’m sure I don’t know why. I felt myself shudder convulsively against him, watching both streams of red cavorting over my wrists. Ferre looked pleased with himself.

After another moment of comfort, he shoved me off of him, and fetched some bandages. He wrapped my wrists tightly and efficiently. Gods help me, I was a little sorry to see them covered. Ferre, however, had already moved on.

“Strip.”

“Ferre, I did already, see?”

“Completely.”

By this point, I was rather aroused, and it was showing enough, without…you know…showing it. But he looked so serious and steadfast that I shakily removed my underpants. As soon as my testicles were revealed, he seized them and squeezed them sharply. I gave a little indignant cry, which made him smile. It was rather disturbing.

“Uh…” I managed to stammer.

“Making sure your testicles have descended!” He said, cheerfully.

I shook my head. He didn’t seem to understand what his test actually was. And that had nothing to do with descending.

Now, I don’t know if you know this about Ferre, and do excuse me for interrupting the narrative flow or whatever you wish to call it, but Ferre…he’s more or less considered asexual. He never talks about girls (or boys) with the rest of us, and in fact doesn’t even seem to notice when we do talk about such things. His next move, then, startled me. Hell, I think my heart skipped a beat. It was that unexpected.

Having released my testes, he proceeded to wrap his hand around my penis, and tugged it briskly. To my embarrassment, I almost came right there. As it was, I could only murmur, weakly, “…Ferre.”

He glanced up, completely unfazed. “Just making sure everything works properly.”

“…they actually teach you to do that?”

He nodded. “Now, hush. When was the last time you went to a doctor?”

I wasn’t sure whether to hush or answer. “Uh…”

“That’s what I thought. We’d better test you for sterility.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Or maybe I did. In any case, Combeferre would not have been my top choice to ‘test for sterility’. “Um…”

“I’ll be right back.” He left for a moment, leaving me too stunned even to move, and returned shortly with a small porcelain bowl. He set it down, and said, quite matter-of-factly, “Try to let me know when you feel ready.”

Before I could ask him what exactly he meant, or anything else, he seized my penis again, and began…testing me for fertility. It was over quite quickly, I’ve never been quite that fond of myself, if you know what I mean, so it had been a while. As I felt myself tense, he released me, grabbed the bowl, and caught some of the…product. I collapsed backwards onto the bed; he looked pleased with himself.

As soon as I was able, I looked at him carefully. He still seemed to view this process as completely asexual. He was simply staring at the dish. “Very good. We won’t actually test it, I don’t have the right materials here.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Can…can I go?”

He looked as if I had asked “When will sugar fall from the sky?” or something equally unreasonable. “Of course not, we’ve hardly begun. Roll over.”

I did without thinking.

He rustled around for a while behind my back, while I lay recuperating. After another moment, with no warning, I felt his slick, obviously lubricated, finger enter my rear. I jerked sharply, trying to turn and look at him. He pushed me back down, rather impatiently.

“You squirm a lot, do you know that?”

“You would squirm, if someone suddenly put a finger up your ass!” This was a little muffled, as he was still holding me down.

“Hush. Haven’t you ever been examined before?”

“Not like this, I haven’t!”

He sniffed snobbishly. “Well, I don’t know what kind of doctor you’ve been to, honestly.” And he proceeded to shove his finger deeper, feeling around.

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to keep control of myself.

He withdrew his finger, and I assumed he was done. No such luck. A moment later I felt myself penetrated by a cold piece of steel. I moaned, digging my nails harder.

“Stop squirming!”

I didn’t bother responding to that. Instead, I allowed myself to feel the steel thing creeping further and further into me, warming as it went. I heard a faint clicking, and it began to expand, stretching the hole. It didn’t hurt; in fact, it was rather pleasant. I didn’t know what Ferre was doing, nor did I especially want to. I simply allowed myself to enjoy it. Sadly, after a few more minutes, the device was removed, and I heard Ferre again.

“When was the last time you had an enema?”

I was still half in that drowsy state of bliss, and wished he’d stop talking, already. “A what?”

I heard more rustling, and felt something else being gently slid into my waiting orifice. I sighed with pleasure, and began returning to my peaceful, relaxed state. There was a faint click, and I felt warmth begin to flow from the thing. It was exceptionally wonderful, that’s the only way I can think to describe it. I felt full, and warm, and utterly relaxed, and the warmth just kept coming. I later realized it was water, which Ferre must have heated already. Always prepared, our Ferre.

After a while, however, it began to feel too much, and I had an overwhelming need to relieve myself. I tried to roll over and tell Ferre this, but he held me down. I had nearly begun to writhe by this point, it was becoming intolerable, but he continued to hold me. At last the flow of water stopped, but he still wouldn’t let me rise. By now I was nearly in tears, but I could still feel his firm hands on my back, and knew struggling was useless.

He murmured, “You have to hold it a little longer, Alain…” before gently rolling me onto my back, still holding me down. He drew my upper body into his lap, and began rubbing my abdomen. I could feel the water sloshing around in me, and it felt a little better. After a few minutes of this, he began rubbing in the opposite direction, and that unbearable need returned. Finally, he released me. Almost before I knew I was free, I had leapt up and headed for the chamber pot. In the next room, of course.

When I returned, I felt…better. Better, in fact, than I had felt in a long time. I leaned on the doorframe, watching him clean and inspect his instruments, shaking my head gently. What a fine doctor he would make.

“Merci, Alain. I feel much more experienced now. It was good of you to squirm, it makes it much more realistic. Come again sometime?”

I fled.