The ward shook as a loud explosion rocked the hospital. Dr Rick Daglass, M.D., looked up from the injection he was about to give the youngster on the bed and glowered at the nurse beside him.
"What the hell was that?"
She shrugged, then grabbed for the bedhead as a second blast shook the building. Dagless threw the hypodermic down onto the tray and rose to his feet.
"I can't work under these conditions! Stay with him while I go and see what's going on."
Storming out of the ward, he almost bumped into his colleague and best buddy, Dr Lucien Sanchez. Sanchez was in the process of ripping off his surgical mask and gloves. Obviously, thought Dagless, glancing at the blood splattered over the surgeon's gown, he'd been mid-way through an operation when the whatever-it-was had happened.
"Any idea what's goin' on, Sanch?"
Sanchez shook his perfectly coiffed head.
"Haven't a clue. Whatever it was, my patient is now history. Threw me off balance, scalpel severed the renal artery. Poor bastard never stood a chance."
They both stumbled as yet another explosion shook the hospital. Dagless gestured to Jim, the only unruffled figure in the panic-ridden mass of staff and patients now filling the corridors.
"Jim, get these people evacuated. Fast as you can. I'm relying on you to make sure they get to safety."
The tall orderly nodded once and ambled off to do the doctor's bidding. Dagless turned back to Sanchez.
"I'm betting this is connected with the hell-mouth under the hospital."
Sanchez raised an eyebrow.
"More than likely. Sometimes I wish you'd never opened that damned portal."
"Yeah, you and me both, buddy." Dagless paused for a moment, then sighed. "Guess it's up to us to sort it out, then."
"It usually is. Where do you want to start?"
"Down in the basement. That's where the blasts are comin' from."
"We'd better take the stairs. I wouldn't want to be in a lift if there's another explosion..."
At least the next explosion waited until they were both at the bottom of the stairs, otherwise they could have been injured. The blast threw them together against the wall in a tangle of arms and legs, leaving them breathless for a moment, and Dagless found himself gazing a few seconds too long at Sanch's eyelashes. God they were long! And thick. And a beautiful dark-honey hue. They'd have looked great on a woman...
On Sanch they looked... even better.
"What're you staring at, Dag?"
Dagless shook his head, blinking, and pulled back from his friend.
"Nothin', Sanch."
"Well you'd better get your head in the game, Dag. This is no picnic on the beach."
"I know, Sanch. I know. Let's go."
This portal was a swirling mass of crimson doom, sucking all within its grasp down into its hellish depths. Dagless thought, briefly, that it was just as well it was sucking, not blowing. Another bout of evil escaping into the hospital would be a real hassle. Then he frowned. Inch by inch the portal was growing steadily, inexorably larger: the explosions were caused by hospital oxygen tanks being sucked into the maelstrom. If they couldn't manage to close the opening, it could suck down the entire hospital. And, who knew, even the whole of Romsford. Hell, the whole world could be sucked in!
They had to close that portal!
But how?
As if reading his mind, a brilliantly glowing sigil suddenly appeared, floating above the very centre of the maelstrom. Dagless' heart sank. He knew that sigil. He'd even used it in the past. But that time there'd been a woman around... Sanchez wasn't going to like this.
"I know what it is. And what it means."
Sanchez frowned at him. His martial arts were useless here – hell, even his gun was useless in this situation.
"Well? Come on, man! What does it mean?"
"It means the only way to close the portal is by using tantric magic. We have to have sex."
Sanchez stared at Dagless in horror.
"We have to what?!"
Dagless raised his hands, helplessly.
"Sanch, I don't make the rules. And I don't like it any more than you do. But that's the only way we can close the portal and save the hospital. And possibly the world."
Sanchez wiped absently at the nervous sweat beading his upper lip. An upper lip that was, Dagless realised, quite beautifully shaped. As was the lower lip. In fact, Sanchez' whole mouth was really... sinfully tempting... He blinked rapidly, trying to rein in the sudden dark desire to feel Sanchez' lips on his own, and pulled the surgeon around a corner, out of sight of the creeping maelstrom. Sanchez still looked aghast.
"But... but... Dag, you know I don't swing that way!"
"I know, big guy." Dagless rested a hand briefly on a firm, shapely shoulder, squeezing gently.
Oh god...
He swallowed hard and dragged his hand away. Sanchez frowned.
"Are you sure there's no other way?"
Dagless shook his head.
"Believe me, Sanch, if I knew of any other way, no matter how extreme or unlikely, I'd grab it with both hands. And my teeth. But I don't."
Sanchez closed his eyes with a shudder.
"Then that's the way it'll have to be." He shrugged out of his white lab coat with clinical efficiency, allowing it to drop unregarded to the floor, then unbuttoned his shirt, placing his cufflinks carefully into a trouser pocket. Draping the garment over a convenient chair, he bent to remove his shoes and socks – quite incidentally giving Dagless a magnificent side view of his tight little arse.
Oh god!
"Aren't you going to strip?"
"What?"
Half-naked, Sanchez glowered at his friend and colleague.
"Oh... um, yes..." But Dagless' hands were trembling, his fingers clumsy as he struggled with his tie and shirt buttons. Sanchez planted long, slender-fingered hands on his hips. His own hips, that is, not Dagless', though right now, Dagless would have preferred it the other way around.
"Oh come on, Dag! How long does it take you to get naked?"
"You've still got your trousers on."
Sanchez unzipped his fly and slid the offending article down lean, tanned legs, then kicked it out of the way and stood before Dagless in nothing but skimpy little black briefs.
Dagless tried hard to swallow with a mouth suddenly completely dry. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch: his teeth itched with the desire to peel that little bit of black fabric down Sanch's gorgeous body... He moaned, very quietly, and closed his eyes. Given what they were going to have to do in just a very little while it seemed silly to be bothered by it, but he really didn't want Sanch to see the erection he was now trying to hide.
Too late. Sanchez quirked an eyebrow.
"I didn't know you were that way inclined, Dag."
"I'm not! Well, not normally."
"Should I be flattered?"
"Yes you damn well should!" Suddenly thoroughly pissed off by the whole situation, Dagless gracelessly stripped off the rest of his clothing, long stripy boxers included, letting it all lie where it fell, and faced Sanch. He could feel his face reddening. He wished, fleetingly, he'd kept up the gym visits and got rid of the paunch...
"Let's get it over with." Body language redolent of resignation, Sanchez removed the briefs and leaned back against the wall. He was, Dagless noted with some envy, rather well endowed. Though not at all aroused. "How do you want to do this?"
"You got any experience?"
"Of course not!" Sanchez looked offended. "I told you, I'm strictly a ladies man."
"Then I guess it's up to me." As usual. Dagless stepped closer, one hand reaching for Sanchez' face, palm cupping his cheek, thumb stroking a cheekbone. "I'll be gentle, I promise."
"You'd better be..." Sanchez' eyes had closed, though whether with pleasure or because he simply wanted to distance himself from the whole situation Dagless couldn't tell.
"Turn around, Sanch."
The surgeon obliged, placing his splayed hands against the wall and spreading his legs, rather like a police victim about to be frisked. Dagless, relieved that his friend could no longer see his face, allowed himself a grimace that was half-anticipation, half-fear, but mostly annoyance that they had no handy bed.
Or lubrication. That was more of a problem. He'd just promised he wouldn't hurt his friend, but without anything to ease his way he didn't see how he could avoid causing some pain. Fair enough he wasn't quite as big as Sanch, but nevertheless... His expression brightened as a thought struck him.
"Sanch – you got any massage oil on you?"
"In my coat pocket."
Dagless fumbled out a small bottle from the discarded lab coat, opening it and sniffing appreciatively.
"Ylang-ylang. Very nice."
"The ladies seem to appreciate it." Sanchez drew a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wall. "Dag, get a move on will you?"
"Sorry, buddy." Dagless filled his palm with the oil, then anointed his cock, biting back a groan as the sweet liquid trickled down over his balls. Moving closer to Sanchez, he eased apart firm buttocks and slid a finger down between his friend's legs. Sanchez instinctively tensed, and Dagless pressed a kiss between his shoulderblades.
"It's OK, Sanch." He whispered. "Just makin' sure I don't hurt you. Trust me."
"Of course I do."
But the surgeon was so tight and tense Dagless wasn't at all sure he could loosen his friend enough to make penetration possible, let alone pain-free. He paused, middle finger pressing lightly at Sanchez' anus – then reached around his friend's body, hand cupping the slack genitals.
Sanchez yelped and pressed back against Dagless, who grinned to himself. His touch was obviously having the desired effect, as Sanch was definitely hardening. Dagless wrapped his fingers around the half-erect flesh and began to fondle, immensely satisfied when Sanchez groaned and relaxed. Very slowly he eased a digit into his friend's virgin arse, angling downwards in search of... there.
"Oh god, Rick..." Sanchez suddenly jerked back against him, twisting his head to look over his shoulder, smouldering dark eyes hooded and pupils enormous. Dagless leaned forward and kissed him, lightly at first, then harder as Sanchez shivered and reached for his lips.
Sanch... He tasted very faintly of Scotch and pork pie, probably from last night, Dagless thought. His lips were firm and silky, his tongue insistent, nearly aggressive, and Dagless almost came right then and there.
But they had a mission to accomplish. Managing to draw a breath between kisses, Dagless eased his fingers out and positioned his cock at the spasming entrance to his friend's body.
"You ready, Sanch?" It was almost a whisper: Sanchez replied in kind, his rich voice quavering.
"Yes, Rick..."
And Dagless thrust jerkily into the strong body before him.
He heard Sanchez hiss, felt his body tense momentarily before the surgeon forced himself to relax, head falling forward to rest against the wall. Dagless kissed his back again, then slid his other hand around to the front of Sanchez' body to stroke his balls. Sanch's erection had, understandably, wilted while his body was being breached: Dagless now brought his not-inconsiderable skills into play to ensure that the experience wasn't a complete nightmare for his friend...
Sanchez was panting, hips pushing back against Dagless' groin as he pushed in, then jerking forwards into his hands – strong, knowing hands – as Dagless pulled out. Rick's eyes rolled back, lids closing as he lost himself in the age-old mindless bliss of simple fucking...
His climax took him almost by surprise, a violent orgasm that felt as though it dragged his soul with it into the hot, trembling body in front of him. He gripped Sanchez' penis, pumping fast and hard, other arm around the surgeon's waist in support as Sanchez shivered and groaned and cried out as he came, spurting against the wall, his own belly and Dagless' hands. Dagless only just managed to hold him steady as he crumpled against the wall, pulling free of the slackening cock in his arse.
"Sanch? You OK, buddy?"
"Rick..." It was whispered, sounded faint, and Dagless eased his friend down to sprawl on the floor, his back to the wall, thighs spread wide and semen oozing copiously from between his legs. He slumped back against the wall, eyes closed, looking both deliciously debauched and utterly spent. Dagless knelt before him, sticky hands on his shoulders.
"Sanch? Come on, Sanch. Look at me. You OK?"
A faint nod, then the surgeon forced open his eyes.
"I'm fine..." His eyes closed again as his head rolled to the side. Dagless had to listen hard to catch his next murmured words. "Did it work?"
But the fact that he was able to hear the words, despite their extremely low volume, suggested that they'd been successful. Leaving Sanchez for a moment, he peered around the corner, sagging with relief and disappointment to see that the portal had completely closed without a trace.
He returned to Sanchez, who hadn't moved. In fact, it looked as though he was unconscious. Dagless knelt before him and patted his cheek.
"Sanch? Come on, buddy."
"Mm?"
"Sanch... come on. The portal's closed. We did it. We saved the hospital. Now we need to get you upstairs so you can recover."
The surgeon tried to move, but slumped back with a groan.
"Dag... don't think I can make it..."
"Sure you can, big guy. I'll help you."
Dagless eased an arm around his friend's shoulders, pulling him unsteadily to his feet, then propped him against the wall. Grabbing his discarded lab coat, he wrapped it around the semi-conscious surgeon. He could always come back for Sanch's clothes later: right now the priority was to get his buddy into bed, to rest.
"What happened!?" Liz watched pruriently as Dagless pulled the duvet over Sanchez, then eased the surgeon out of the gown. He glanced over his shoulder, one side of his mouth quirking.
"He's a hero, Liz. His sacrifice saved Darkplace."
"Oh. Perhaps I've misjudged him." Liz gazed down at Sanchez. Dagless frowned.
"No, not really. Besides, I helped."
"Then you're a hero too, Rick." Liz eyed him adoringly. "Can I buy you a coffee?"
Dagless shook his head.
"No thanks. I think I'll get some air. Look after Sanch, will you?"
"Of course..."
Up on the roof Dagless gazed out at the sunset. Another day, another portal to hell closed.
But what about him and Sanch? Where did they stand now? What would happen to their friendship...?
Next: Return of the Narrative
© 2008 Mar 19th Joules