Commitment Issues (16 page)

"Mmmm,” he said. “You feel so good."

I felt his dick get hotter and hotter. His temperature was going up, and it wasn't just from the friction. Wyatt was about to cum inside me. He didn't pound me at the end, but there was some definite heat.

"Ugggh,” I whispered. “Ugggh."

"Oh, wow,” he said with a laugh. “That was amazing."

When he pulled out, I turned over.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not a bit,” I said. “Not a bit. You'll have to try harder if you want to hurt me, dude. I survived a goddamn bomb, you know."

We were still kissing, and he reached around to find my dick.

Somebody knocked at the door.

"Shit,” I said. “Just my luck."

Wyatt sprang off the bed and ran to the door. “Yeah?"

"Y'all okay in there?” It was the cop.

"We're amazing in here,” he said. “I'll open the door in a second."

"No need,” the officer said. “Just checking on the patient."

"I'm awesome, officer,” I said, thinking we could have had a couple more minutes for Wyatt to finish me. It was okay because we had a whole future ahead of us. What was more, I'm such a bottom that I don't have to shoot every time.

Wyatt wouldn't let me push him away. Before he did anything, he made me shoot. He took every drop in his mouth, and that really surprised me. I could almost never cum when somebody else was jacking me off. I could cum just from fucking, but he made me shoot with his hand and mouth.

"I think we are consummated,” he said with a wink.

"I love you more than I thought possible,” I said as he got dressed. He tossed the used rubber into the big sharps container on the wall. He came over to the bed with a warm towel and ran it up my crack. Then he turned it to a dry end and dried everything.

"Good as new,” I said. “Wow."

When I rolled over, Wyatt stood beside the bed and stroked my chest. He drew figure eights over my tits, which were poking against the hospital gown. He let his hand move to my thighs, and I parted my legs a little to let him. He cupped his hand so that it was over my balls. His fingers reached down to my hole. How did he even know that hold? You aren't just born knowing it is the sexiest way to hold a guy that was ever invented, but he just knew it.

He kept the heel of his hand on the base of my dick, and he let his fingers hold me gently while the tips of his fingers found my ass. And he just stood there while I enjoyed being held. He made me feel so warm and loved. It was like he was standing beside me to be with me and to protect me. Fucking
wow
.

"I love you,” I said as he let his tongue explore my lips. He left his hand in that awesome position, and he kissed me for a couple of minutes. With his free hand, he brushed my hair. Wyatt just looked at me and smiled. He felt my hair, and he held my balls and ass, and he just looked at me.

That was our first time making love.

"Thanks,” Wyatt whispered as he cracked open the door. “We really needed that."

"No worries,” I heard the officer say.

It wasn't how I imagined our first time would be. If you got me to list out the top fifty places to have first sex with a lover, I don't think the hospital would be on the list. It might not even make the top one thousand places, but that was where it started for Wyatt and me. It took me running him off because of my pissy attitude and almost getting my ass blown off to get him back. If we lived a hundred years together, I don't think anybody would ever be able to top our first sex story.

I rolled onto my side as Wyatt stood beside the bed. He was grinning as wide as I had ever seen him grin before.

"I love you,” he said as he put his palms on the sides of my neck. I don't know where he learned these hand positions, but they made me feel so warm and secure. He let his fingers touch on the back of my neck, and I was completely in his control. He leaned down and kissed me.

A few seconds before, he had had his left hand over my balls and reaching down to my hole—the sexiest way to hold a bottom like me. You can't improve on the gesture if you want to say “I want you.” Now Wyatt had both of his palms on the sides of my face, and he let his fingers reach around to caress my neck. You can't improve on that gesture if you want to say “I'm here for you.” If he had a third hand and learned how to do both at the same time, I'm fairly sure I'd have a heart attack. Wyatt was intense when he was just touching me. It didn't have to be sex. Just touching. He always knew what to do with his hands and his eyes, and he never came across as being anything but authentic. It was like he was a natural, and he did all the right moves to let me know how much he loved me. Wyatt's body language spoke volumes.

"I love you more than I ever loved anyone,” I said, and I meant every word. I was hoping for a sonnet, but that was the best I could do.

I said a prayer to my dead lover, Carlos, telling him that I hoped he understood. Telling Carlos in my mind felt good. It was like Carlos was somehow telling me he was happy for me. He was glad that I could finally move on.

Wyatt was in love with me, even though I was missing part of a foot and part of a finger. He was such a knockout that he could have had the pick of anybody in the country—maybe the world—but he wanted to be with me. Everybody who saw him said he was gorgeous enough for any fashion magazine, and he had a frisky and delightful personality. I wanted to be with him more than I can hope to describe. He held me to show me how much he loved me, and he took me sexually just because he knew I had given myself to him. Fucking
wow
.

We just stared into each other's eyes for several minutes. His green eyes danced in front of me, and he grinned and laughed from time to time. He didn't have to say anything. Most importantly, he didn't have to ask before he took me. He just knew, and he knew how to be a top. The most girly boy in the world got all butch inside me, not with force but with solid resolve.

He was my top in every sense of the word. I surrendered to Wyatt that day, and I never looked back. I have never had so much as a second of regret. He stuck with me, even when I told him no. It wasn't force. It was patience. It was pure resolve. I was his, and he knew it. To a bottom, it doesn't get better than that.

"How's the patient?” the doctor asked as he walked into the room without even knocking. I saw the officer shrug and mouth “I'm sorry” to Wyatt, but it was all okay.

"Awesome,” I said.

"Wow, chipper and happy? What happened to the curmudgeon in room 520? If I didn't know any better, I'd say... no, that's impossible,” he said as I realized that the entire hospital would soon know that I got some nookie.

"I'm okay, doc."

"Did I interrupt something?” he asked. Was that a slight grin on the edge of the doctor's lips?

"No, you're fine,” I said.

"Somebody's here to see you,” the doctor said, “but she wanted to see if it's okay."

"Who?"

"Your mother,” he said. “Can I tell her she can come in?"

"Can I get some morphine?” I asked.

"Not really,” the doctor said as he studied his notes. I saw Wyatt rolling his eyes. “You need morphine to see your mother?"

"Oh, heavens no. I just wanted to get stoned before I see her."

The doctor shook his head as he walked out.

My mother pushed open the door. She was older, and she looked tired. She had aged fast in the years since we had seen each other.

"Hi, son,” she said.
Son?
She called me her son, which would seem to be contrary to her saying she never had a son.

"Mother,” I said quietly. I used to call her “Mommy,” but I didn't feel chummy about her being in my hospital room.

"I'm here with Lucy,” she said. “Can she come in?"

I shook my head no. Lucy was married to an evangelical preacher who raised money to convert homosexuals. He had a group to make gays marry somebody of the opposite sex. It was a vile and corrupt organization. I had heard of a couple of suicide attempts caused by the organization, but I had never heard of any conversion that worked. Changing somebody's sexual orientation never worked. I always wondered if Lucy married him because of me. Maybe she had tried to get me interested in girls and failed, so she wanted to commit to somebody who claimed to do that full-time. Mother had tried to keep the peace in the family, but she eventually sided with Lucy, saying it was because of the grandchildren. Lucy and the asshole didn't have any kids. I told her it was obvious that she valued Lucy more than me.

Mother stuck her head out the door and shook her head no. She closed the door and walked up to the bed with a smile.

"I've met Wyatt,” she said. “He loves you very much. I like him too. He's so pretty that all the nurses turn their heads when he walks down the hallway. You got a keeper this time, Sean, and he is so nice."

And if she knew what just had happened in the hospital room, she'd probably fall over dead. Maybe we could get my asshole sister and her satanic jock-wad husband in the room, and Wyatt and I could do a repeat performance.

"Do you need anything?” she asked.

"Wyatt,” I said. “Where's Wyatt?"

"I think he's talking to Lucy about something."

My sister was probably telling him about the ex-gay program. I wanted to sell tickets to that conversation and open an off-track betting store to gamble on the results. Wyatt had been so timid when I first saw him, but he had blossomed into somebody who could handle himself even around my asshole sister and her husband.

"I'm tired,” I lied.

"Okay, dear,” Mother said. “I just wanted to see you. We had some strong disagreements in the past, but I want you to know that I love you. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't strong enough to deal with addiction, but I am so proud of what you've done."

I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

"How'd you do with my sister?” I asked Wyatt the next day. When I awoke, he was sleeping in the hospital bed curled around me. We both faced the window, and he had snuggled in close to my back. It was the same position as when we made love, except that he was fully clothed, damn it. One of his legs was between my legs, and one of his arms was around my waist.

"We had a tense moment or two. I told her that I don't really care what she thinks about me or you, but that I would insist on respect."

"Good for you,” I smiled. “Did her head start spinning around?"

"Not really, but I think she was surprised that somebody would be so direct."

"You hold your ground?"

"Held mine and captured some from the enemy. I told her if I ever heard of anything negative from her that she would never set foot in our home or anywhere else. I told her that life is too short for me to suffer bigots or hazing. She said that being called to faith can break up families."

"I can't wait to hear what you said to that."

"What? I was nice and never raised my voice, but I told her if any family was going to break up it would be hers, because I wasn't going to allow her hate speech anywhere near my family. I told her that we would pray that she learn to accept the fact that God doesn't make mistakes... that if God had made me gay at birth, it was dangerous and satanic to think she needed to improve on what God did."

"What'd she say to that?"

"Let me quote her: ‘But...,’ she said. ‘But... but....’ I told her to stop saying ‘but'. I told her I was very fond of her brother's butt, and it wasn't available even if she said please. I told her that I wasn't in the mood to share with anybody in a cult that thought they were called to fix what God created."

"Ooooh, you did?"

"I did. I asked her—nicely and with a smile—if she had any questions. She didn't. I think she was a little afraid of me, but I didn't threaten her. I got into her personal space a little, but we never touched."

"Sweet,” I said. “I could have used your help when we were growing up. I may have been too rough with Mother. She was here with some remorse, and I need to circle back around on that."

"Not today,” he said as he held my hand.

"No, not today."

"I love you,” he told me.

"Am I interrupting?” my doctor asked as he walked into the room. Wyatt got out of the bed and walked over toward the window.

"No, damn it,” Wyatt said.

"We need the room,” the doctor said. “Do you think Wyatt can take care of you?"

"Yeah,” I shrugged.

"Not just sleep with you,” the doctor said. “You aren't a hundred percent yet. You can't do everything like you used to."

"I'll be fine."

"We have your external injuries fixed. All your labs are looking good. Internal bleeding was stopped a long time ago, and your internal bruising is gone. I was worried about that punctured lung for a while, but it seems to be okay. The big problem was that all your internal organs were knocked loose by the bomb. They're on the mend, but you are a bit fragile. Chart says you are pregnant, but that—"

"Whoa, huh?"

"Just seeing if you were paying attention."

"I was,” I said. “But if my apartment was blown up, I don't know where we are going to stay."

"Well, I think your company has a new place for you to stay,” the doctor said.

"You don't worry about the place,” Wyatt said proudly. “Chico and I got you settled. There's security in the lobby—burly guys in snappy uniforms with nightsticks and mace. It's a high-rise. You are moved in and unpacked, what was left that didn't get blown up. Chico and the radio network bought you some stuff, so you are good to go."

"Do I even get a vote?"

"No, apparently not,” the doctor said.

"So you're just tossing me out on the street?"

"Not at all. An orderly is bringing a wheelchair."

"Okay, so you're rolling me out to the street."

The doctor nodded. “Yeah, well, your insurance has been milked for everything we could get, so I'm afraid the hospital needs to move on to more fertile ground."

"I don't know how I will live without your cheerful staff, doctor."

"You will suffer in quiet desperation, just like all my other former patients. Try to cope, Sean. I don't think your insurance covers counseling, so you're on your own."