The rich voice was unusually hesitant.
"Dag?"
Dr Rick Dagless, MD, looked over his shoulder, startled. Dr Lucien Sanchez, his colleague and best bud, stood a few feet behind him.
"Sanch. You OK, big guy?"
Sanchez seemed unable to meet his eyes, and shook his head mutely. Dagless frowned.
"What's the matter?"
"What... last week..."
Last week they'd had to have sex in order to close the portal that had opened under the hospital that had threatened to suck everything within its reach into hell. For Dagless it had been just another exotic experience in a lifetime of such things – though he had to admit he'd particularly enjoyed it: Sanchez was rather attractive – but it seemed as though the surgeon was... troubled.
"You wanna go get a coffee and talk?"
Sanchez swallowed and briefly met his friend's gaze before averting his eyes again.
"I think we need to. I need to, anyway..."
Fortunately the staffroom was empty, which saved them the necessity of finding an unoccupied room. Dagless poured them both a coffee and ushered his buddy into a seat, settling himself on the opposite side of the table.
"K, Sanch. What's the problem?"
Sanchez kept his head down, gazing intently into his coffee.
"I... don't know how..." He swallowed again, glancing quickly up at Dagless then back down at the mug in his trembling hands. This was obviously difficult for him. "I'm a ladies man, Dag. You know that."
It sounded almost desperate, that faint quaver in the surgeon's beautiful voice quite pathetic. Dagless touched his hand, nodding sympathetically when Sanchez recoiled after a telling second.
"I know, Sanch. We had no choice."
"I know, but..."
Dagless sighed.
"There's no shame in admitting you enjoyed it." He frowned into the tense silence. "You did enjoy it, didn't you Sanch?"
"Yes, god damn it!" Sanchez finally lifted his head, and Dagless was startled to see the misery in his deep-golden eyes. The surgeon rubbed a hand across his face. "And I don't know how to deal with it."
"Can't you just accept it for what it was?"
"I thought I had..." Sanchez took a sip of his coffee. "But I keep... remembering... wondering..."
Wondering what? Wondering what it would be like to be on the other end, fucking instead of being fucked? Dagless' cock gave a little twitch at the thought. He nodded.
"You want to try again?"
"I... I don't know." There was fear in the sultry dark eyes. "What if... what if I like it too much? What if I find, afterwards... I no longer like women? I think I'd rather die than turn queer."
"Does the thought of making love to a woman put you off?"
Sanchez was silently pensive for a moment, then sighed.
"No. When I think of their soft flesh and their smooth firm breasts in my hands, and that wonderful warm holster between their legs... well, it makes me as hard as ever." He shifted in his seat, adjusting his sudden erection. "But..."
"But the idea of taking a man – or being taken – excites you?"
Sanchez' "... yes..." was whispered, as if he was ashamed. Dagless slapped his arm playfully.
"That's OK then. You're not turning into a poof. You're just... exploring."
The relief and gratitude on Sanchez face was almost comical.
"You really think so?"
"Yeah, big guy. I know so."
Sanchez' eyes closed, and he slumped with relief.
"Thank god..."
Dagless let the silence continue for a few moments, then leaned forward, his voice low.
"So, do you want to try again? In a proper bed this time?"
"Why? You offering?"
"Would you like me to?"
Sanchez eyed him contemplatively. Would he? He trusted Dag. But did he really want to fuck him?
The answer was probably no; there must be other, more attractive men to take to bed – but Dagless was all that was available right now. He was a known quality. He was safe.
Sanchez nodded slowly, lifting his gaze to the man sitting opposite. His good friend Rick. Dagless smiled.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
Dagless had obviously put in a little effort. The place was clean and tidy, the bedding fresh – he'd even sprayed some air freshener around, if the mingled smells of tobacco and something thickly floral were anything to go by. And there was a bottle of wine and two tall glasses sitting on the bedside cabinet.
Sanchez smiled, a little nervously. Dagless had answered the door in his dressing gown and slippers, hair wet and skin warm from a very recent shower, and the surgeon wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling. Flattered that Dag had gone to all this trouble? Probably. Excited? Surely. Apprehensive? Very likely.
"Hi, big guy." Dagless turned towards the bed, pouring them both a glass of wine – a cheap supermarket red, Sanchez noted, unsurprised. Dag was not the most open-handed of men. Au contraire, there were times when he could be positively stingy. But it would do to break the ice – and help Sanchez relax, something that was badly needed right now.
"Want a shower?"
Sanchez took a sip, hiding his grimace – the wine was distinctly vinegary – and shook his head.
"Had one before I came, thanks."
"Fine." There was a slightly awkward silence, then Dagless seated himself on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress beside him. "Want to get started?"
Sanchez sat, gingerly, keeping a good foot of space between them. Dagless sighed.
"Look Sanch, if you're not happy about this, or if you've changed your mind, say now and we'll call the whole thing off."
"No... no... I'm... it's just... I've never done anything like this before."
"Last week?"
"That was... different."
Dagless laid a hand on his shoulder. Sanchez fought not to tense up, and Dagless sighed.
"Get undressed. Get into bed."
Swallowing hard, Sanchez stood and stripped, quickly, efficiently, laying his clothes over a handy chair, then turned back to the bed, resisting the urge to cover his groin when he realised that Dagless was watching him, an almost predatory half-smile on his face.
"Nice bod."
"Thanks. I've been using the gym..." Sanchez slid quickly under the duvet, pulling it up to his waist and eyeing Dagless apprehensively. The doctor dropped his dressing gown on the floor, kicked off the slippers, and climbed onto the bed, lying down to rest on his side, head supported on his raised hand. For a few seconds the two men eyed each other, then Dagless smiled.
"OK. I'll do all the work, this first time. Finish your wine, Sanch. Then lie down. Get comfortable. Relax."
For once Sanchez obeyed without argument, and once he was lying – rather tense and stiff – on his back, Dagless pulled the duvet right down to the foot of the bed, leaving the surgeon exposed and trembling faintly. Sanchez closed his eyes as a warm hand was lain on his chest, shivering as strong fingers pinched his nipple then moved down his body, pausing just above the base of his cock.
"You OK, buddy?"
Sanchez' "yes" sounded strangled, and Dagless chuckled.
"You don't sound it. And you can move, you know. You don't have to just lie there."
"Sorr..." it was cut off with a gasp as Dagless wrapped his fingers around Sanchez lax penis and squeezed. The surgeon instinctively reached for Dagless, hand tangling in his hair and pushing his head downwards – eyes opening as Dag abruptly pulled himself up again, expression half-shocked, half-angry, and yanked his hand away from Sanchez' groin.
"What d'you think you're doing?"
Sanchez loosed his hold.
"I'm sorry, Rick. It was instinct. I've always liked oral sex..."
Dagless' face had gone an interesting shade of puce.
"You mean you thought... you want... you expect me to do that? To you? With my mouth?"
"Well, no, obviously not if you don't want to..."
"Sanch, that's disgusting!"
"It feels good..."
Dagless' mouth was twisted in a grimace, and he was swallowing convulsively. Sanchez sat up, his incipient erection waning swiftly, and dragged the duvet up to his waist.
"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."
"Not if you're going to want things like that!" Dagless grabbed his dressing gown from the floor and shrugged into it. Sanchez lowered his head.
"Perhaps I'd better go."
"I think you'd better."
Sanchez slid out of the bed and dressed in silence, avoiding Dagless' gaze. At the door he glanced back over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry it has to end like this. Are we still buddies?"
Dagless eyed him sulkily – then sighed and smiled.
"Sure, buddy. I'm big enough not to let a silly little thing like this come between us."
"Thanks Rick. I'll see you tomorrow."
Life went on much as usual for a couple of weeks. Sanchez had been worried that despite his words, Dagless would treat him with reserve, but in fact the doctor seemed to have forgotten there had been any awkwardness between them. And Sanchez resigned himself to never knowing what it felt like to make love to another man.
Until that stormy night when the young man was brought in. He'd been found wandering on the moor, confused and lost and unable to even tell them his name, suffering from hypothermia. The medical staff had got him into bed and covered him with warm blankets, but he was disorientated and restless, shoving the bedding from him almost as fast as the nurses put it back on. In desperation, just after midnight they'd roused Sanchez from his bed for advice...
Sanchez stared at the figure. Slim, lightly muscled, with a mass of long, tangled fair hair, even blue with cold the stranger was really rather lovely...
But standing here looking at him wasn't helping his recovery. Sanchez stripped off his lab coat and shirt, then glowered at the nurses.
"Body heat. Only thing that might save his life. I'll do it, to save your blushes. Make sure we have warm drinks on hand for when he's a little more aware. In, say, a couple of hours."
Giggling, the nurses exited the room, leaving Sanchez to strip completely and climb into the bed, gritting his teeth as his warm skin came into intimate contact with the bitterly chilled flesh of the patient. The surgeon moulded himself as best he could to the young man, half on top of his lean body, arms around his chest and one leg between the patient's, sharing his own generous heat. And very slowly the stranger began to warm up, shivering a little to start with, then nestling closer, his arms sliding around Sanchez' back, holding him with surprising strength. After half an hour his eyes flickered open and gazed into Sanchez'.
They were a very pretty pale blue, with a hint of grey, unfocussed and dazed right now, but, thought Sanchez, they'd probably sparkle when the youth was in full health.
"Don't worry – you're in hospital."
The patient groaned very faintly.
"I'm Dr Sanchez. You had hypothermia – I'm sharing body heat to help you warm up."
"...s'that what you call it..."
Sanchez tried to pull back, but the patient mewed in distress and tried to hold him in place with weak arms, and the surgeon relaxed back down.
"Is this helping?"
"Mmm..."
"What's your name?"
"Leslie."
"How did you come to be on the moor, Leslie?"
"Got lost."
Sanchez sighed.
"You know you should never go orienteering without a map and a compass. The moor can be a dangerous place."
Leslie shifted slightly – and Sanchez became aware of a long, hard shape pressing into his hip."
"Ah. I see most of you has recovered. Perhaps it's time for you to have a warm drink."
"Please... stay here a little longer... I'm still cold..."
"Very well." In truth, Sanchez wasn't at all averse to staying where he was. It was comfortable, and Leslie was really very attractive... he felt himself growing aroused, and tried to move so the young man wouldn't notice. Too late. One of Leslie's hands slid around to the front and gripped the surgeon's cock tightly.
"Mmmmm... very nice..." The lovely blue-grey eyes were more aware now, and gazed at Sanchez with an endearing mixture of gratitude and mischief. "I tell you what would really warm me up..." he slid his thumb over the top of Sanchez' penis and under the foreskin, smearing pre-ejaculate across the silky glans. Sanchez gasped and shuddered briefly, then frowned at the young man.
"That's hardly ethical."
"I'm sure you've done it before, Doctor Sanchez. Haven't dying patients asked you for a last glimpse of life on the verge of death?"
"But you aren't dying."
"Not now, thanks to you." He wriggled. "What's your name? Your first name?"
"Lucien."
"Lucien... I like that..." Leslie smiled at him. It was a very sexy smile, a definite 'let's make love' smile, and Sanchez found himself once again at the mercy of his gonads. He pressed a light kiss to the patient's mouth, then reached down to the still-cool groin, stroking the long, slim penis there.
Leslie groaned, his eyes closing.
"God I want you in me!"
"I haven't done this before."
Leslie moved, spreading his thighs widely and urging Sanchez between them. The surgeon obliged, taking some of his weight on his elbows as he gazed down into the bright eyes. The young man raised his head, kissing Sanchez lightly.
"Don't worry – I have. You won't hurt me."
"If you're sure..."
"I'm sure. Lucien, please, fuck me..."
And Sanchez eased himself into the lean body in little jerks, remembering what Dagless had done, and pausing often to let Leslie accustom himself to his doctor's not inconsiderable girth. When Sanchez was finally fully seated, cock gripped by hot flesh, Leslie wrapped his legs around the surgeon's waist and his arms around broad shoulders with a sigh.
"You feel fantastic." It was whispered but fervent, and sent a shiver through Sanchez' whole body.
"So do you."
Leslie pulled Sanchez even closer, then nipped his earlobe.
"Then make me feel even better..."
Sanchez whimpered as he came, dimly aware, through the pretty lights behind his eyelids, that Leslie had also climaxed, as evinced by the sticky dampness between their tightly entwined bodies...
"... oh god..."
Which of them had said it? And did it matter? Sanchez looked down at Leslie, smiling at the bliss on his face, the wonderfully debauched sprawl of his lean body on the bed, the long tousled hair... He leaned down and captured the young man's lips in a kiss – a real one, deep and slow and sensual. Leslie moaned as he responded, tongue gently questing, hips moving gently against Sanchez' as he hardened again.
"Incorrigible child." Sanchez chuckled quietly. Leslie kissed his nose.
"I'm nineteen, Lucien. Not a child."
"I wouldn't be doing this if you were." Sanchez stroked a high cheekbone, then rolled them both onto their side, nestling Leslie closer. They lay contentedly for a moment or two, then Sanchez sighed.
"So. Where do we go from here?"
"Well I'm going nowhere." Leslie snuggled closer and wrapped his arms more tightly around the surgeon. "I'm perfectly happy right here."
"But I have a job to do."
"And I won't stop you. But I want to stay with you, Lucien." He lowered his eyes, suddenly hesitant. "I... I have nowhere else to go. But I'm no trouble, honest. I can cook and clean, and I won't cause you any problems."
Sanchez pulled back a little, frowning.
"Now hang on a minute. I don't even know you!"
"But you just fucked me. Surely that means something...?"
Sanchez paused, eyeing the young man thoughtfully. He had to admit it would be nice to have someone around. He'd spent a lot of time alone during his life, and while he had a reputation as a loner it wasn't really his thing. Having someone to come home to would be very nice.
He nodded, raising a hand as Leslie's eyes lit up and his grin threatened to split his face.
"For a while. To see if we're... compatible. And if it doesn't work out, I promise I'll do what I can to help you find a job and somewhere to live. How does that sound?"
Leslie kissed him passionately.
"It sounds wonderful..."
But what would Dagless have to say?
© 2008 Mar 30th Joules
(title courtesy of Lutra)
Next - Farewell My Lovely