Omorphi (66 page)

“Lie down. I want to take the bandage off.”

“No.”

Michael gave Christy a reproving look, and he lay back. Michael carefully peeled away the bandage and wasn’t pleased by what he saw. The skin was puckered and dry, and pus seeped from some areas. “Christy, I think this is infected. We need to have my mom take a look at it when she gets here.”

“Why is it infected? We followed the instructions.”

“We did, but I want my mom to look at it. I think… I also think you shouldn’t walk the waterfront with us.”

“I want to go,” Christy insisted.

“You can go, but I think you should be in a wheelchair.”

“No.”

“You can’t walk.”

Christy seemed to think about this for a minute. “I want to speak with Jerry.”

“Why?”

“I will go in the chair if he goes in the chair.”

“He doesn’t need a wheelchair.”

“Then I do not. I want to be the hero with him.”

It was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes. He withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and called Rob. “Hey, Rob, I think Christy needs a wheelchair for the waterfront. He doesn’t want to ride in one unless Jerry does…. Can you ask him…? Okay, I’ll wait.” The next thing Michael heard was Jerry shouting a “Hell, yeah!” into the phone. Michael smiled. “No wheelchair races, little dude…. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Michael hung up. “Did you hear that?”

Christy smiled.

Michael dialed his mom. “Hey…. Yeah, Christy’s cool…. I told him you know…. It’s all good. Listen, Christy’s burn is oozing…. Yeah, it’s clear…. Oh, okay… okay… got it. The leg still hurts him, and I don’t think he can walk the waterfront. He said he’d go in a wheelchair if Jerry did too, and Jerry said he would. Where can I get two wheelchairs…? Oh really? Cool.” Michael smiled. “You’re the best, Mom. See you in an hour or so.” He smiled down at Christy. “Good news and good news. It’s not infected. It’s supposed to leak fluid and, as long as it’s clear, you’re good to go. She said she’d bring two wheelchairs too.”

Christy smiled again. “Your mother is very nice.”

“She’s the best.” Michael leaned down and kissed him chastely. “Shower and get dressed?”

“Okay.”

M
ICHAEL
braced himself against the shower wall, “Christy, we can’t do this.” Christy hushed him and continued his ministrations. Michael’s legs quivered and threatened to give way. How Christy knew all the right places to touch him, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t let this continue. “Christy, we can’t. You’re going to get hurt.”

Christy’s hands abruptly left Michael’s body as he pulled away, and Michael caught him before he slipped and fell.

“You don’t want me now.” Christy was angry again.

Michael closed his eyes. Man, Christy could get angry fast. “That’s definitely not it. I want you more than you can imagine. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. That’s all.”

“Because you have seen the paintings. You know what they did to me.”

Michael sighed and pulled Christy into his arms. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“You are lying if you say you don’t want to.”

“You’re right about that, but I want to be able to make love to you when you’re better. Not when there’s a risk of hurting you.”

“I can do this. It does not hurt me.” He shoved Michael against the wall with surprising force.

“Are you, like, a featherweight champion in disguise?”

Christy’s angry brow contorted further. “What?”

“You’re pretty damn strong.”

“I want sex with you.”

“Okay, how about this? How about I take care of you once we’re out of the shower?”

“This is not fair.”

Michael half laughed. “Yeah, it’s fair, and that way I don’t have to worry about you getting hurt.”

“I can decide what is good for me.”

Michael sighed. Christy was fighting so hard for identity and independence that Michael didn’t have the heart to dissuade him. Or the willpower. His dick was silently screaming for more attention. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I give. Go back to what you were doing.”

“I can do this?”

Michael stifled a smile. “Knock yourself out. Just don’t blame me if you get hurt.”

“Finally, you make a good decision for me.” Christy resumed his ministrations in less than the blink of an eye, and Michael’s libido claimed him before he could reply.

“Man, Christy, I can’t….” Michael sought the wall for purchase and found none. With Christy’s hand on his dick and his fingers elsewhere, Michael couldn’t think straight. Christy changed the pressure and the pace, and Michael was done in. His body pulsed hard and deep, seeming to reach all the way to his heart, to the very essence of his existence. Before he met Christy, he thought he knew what love was. He hadn’t. Not even the vaguest concept of it. Or that he could feel so good.
Man!

He leaned against the wall, trying to relearn how to breathe as he held Christy. “Man.” He took a deep, quavering breath. “I wish I could make you feel half as good as you make me feel.”

Christy smiled up at him, peaceful and happy again. The rate at which Christy’s personality changed gave him mental whiplash. He was so damn confusing.

“I like that you are the virgin. You are new and clean. Untouched.”

Michael petted his sodden ringlets, amazed at the thickness even when they were wet.
New. Clean.
Untouched
. A fleeting spate of anger at what Christy had endured tried to fight its way to the surface of Michael’s consciousness. He thought to fight it but decided against it. He would be
aware
. It was his solemn, silent promise to Christy. “You are too. In a way you don’t recognize.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, you are. You’ve never been touched by someone who loved you.”

Christy looked up at him, ancient ghosts and hope dancing a conflicting ballet in his eyes. “I am new to this,” he admitted.

“And clean and untouched.”

Christy almost smiled. “It is new for me.”

That was as far as Christy would go, and Michael wasn’t going to push it. He smiled. “I know. And it makes me feel good that you let me be the one to touch you with love.”

Christy moved Michael’s hand down to his hardness, and Michael began to stroke. Christy’s grip tightened on Michael’s biceps, and he closed his eyes. “More,” he whispered.

Still learning, Michael soaped his free hand, reached around Christy, and emulated what Christy had done to him. Christy stifled small noises as he found his rhythm between Michael’s hands. Christy’s fingers dug farther into his biceps as he thrust harder, moving faster.

“Yes, like this,” Christy eked out with a small grunt.

Christy painted Michael’s thigh with warm fluid and collapsed against his chest. Michael held him as his breathing slowed and marveled at his will to live and experience life in spite of everything he’d endured.

M
ICHAEL
carefully bandaged Christy’s hip and thigh as he sat on the cover of the commode. “How does that feel?”

Christy was peaceful, but his body was clearly interested again. Just the sight of him made Michael’s dick hard.
Jeez
. He had a hard enough time taming his own dick, and they didn’t need this right before his mom was due to arrive.

“Okay.”

“What do you want to wear?”

“You.”

Michael laughed softly. “Not in public.”

Christy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “There is enough time for more.” He leaned in and sucked Michael’s lower lip. “I want more.”

“My mom’s going to be here in twenty minutes.”

“Enough time.”

Michael laughed again. “Incorrigible.”

“Only a little stubborn.”

Michael smiled. “What do you want to wear, babe?”

“Jeans, like you.”

“I don’t think so. They’ll kill your leg. What about a pair of sweats?”

Christy tsked. “This is not acceptable to go out.”

“Sure they are. Besides, you have an excuse.”

Christy shook his head.

“How about a skirt?”

Christy’s eyes went wide, and his cheeks filled pretty pink.

Michael smiled. “Which one is your favorite?”

“I can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, no. Your parents.”

“They won’t care. If you don’t pick one, I’ll pick one.”

Christy gripped his hand, only half trying to stop him from going to the closet. “I will wear the sweats.”

Michael bent and kissed him chastely. “Do you trust me?”

Christy nodded.

Michael surveyed the closet and palmed through the clothes. Gowns, dresses, coats, jackets, and capes.
Capes?
Capes. Scarves.
Enough to float a battleship
. Suits, flowery things Michael couldn’t make sense of….
Ah, skirts
. He palmed through them and, at the end of the section, came upon a jeans jumpsuit. He pulled it from the rack and held it up. Tailored, with a man’s cut collar and cuffs like a dress shirt, and wide, bellbottom legs.
Perfect.
Michael looked through the scarves and found a gray knit scarf with small, teal sequin squares.
Perfect for Christy’s eyes.
He looked through the drawers in the closet island and smiled when he found panties. He grinned wider yet when he found the pink lace panties he’d first seen on Christy. This was going to be a great day. Michael just knew it.
Okay, shoes
. He scoured the shelves.
Man, how can someone wear so many shoes?
He halted his efforts when he came upon a pair of dark-blue satin ballet slippers.
Christy would love to wear these out
. Could Michael deal with it? Yeah, he could deal with it. Could his parents deal with it? Only one way to find out.

“Here we go.”

Christy’s mouth made a small O.

“I can’t wear this, Michael.”

“Why not?”

“People will not like it.”

“I like it. Here.” Michael squatted and held the pink panties for him. He stepped into them, and Michael guided him to his feet and pulled them carefully over the bandage. “Is that okay?”

Christy adjusted them. “It is not so good here.” He motioned to the crease between his thigh and groin.

“Okay.” Michael pulled them down and guided Christy to sit again. “Can you move your leg out?” Christy did so with a small wince. Michael carefully laid gauze along the crease in his leg, taped it down, and guided Christy to stand again and pulled the panties up. Christy’s skin had lost a bit of its tan hue, and Michael wondered if it was lack of sun or if it was because he was pale from too much activity. Namely, a temper tantrum. “Better?”

Christy nodded. “I think it is a good thing that the hospital shaved the hair or the tape would cause trouble.”

Michael smiled. “I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You look seriously hot.”

“The skin itches.”

Michael smiled again. “I bet. Do you want me to put the ointment on you?”

Christy huffed. “No. I would like my… body to work.”

Michael laughed softly. “Good point.” He held the jumpsuit so Christy could step into it, and when Christy stood, he lifted it so he could fill it with his arms.

“You like to dress me.”

“It makes me feel like I’m taking care of you.”

“I am an adult, Michael. I can do this.”

Michael zipped the jumpsuit up. “I like to do it. Sit down. How does that feel?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s put these on.”

Christy released a small gasp. “No, no, Michael.”

“They’re perfect.” He lifted Christy’s feet and fitted each of them with a slipper. “Kind of feels like Cinderella.”

Christy rolled his eyes. “This is a Grimm fable. They do not end happily.”

Michael chuckled. “I know. Some are actually pretty gross, but Disney does a good job of rewriting them.”

“Who?”

“Disney. It’s a film company. They’re serious fable freaks.”

Michael set Christy’s small foot down and studied him. He looked as gorgeous as ever. “You’re beautiful.”

Christy blushed crimson, and Michael laughed. “Do you want a scarf?”

“When we go out, not now.”

Michael reached to the counter and sifted through Sophia’s things. “Where’s your watermelon lip gloss?”

“I used it.”

“You don’t have any more?”

Christy shook his head. “Sophia said she will bring more from the city.”

“Okay, how about cherry?”

“No, I don’t want your parents to see it.”

“They won’t mind.” Michael reached to the counter and handed the small jar to Christy.

He clasped it tight, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t mind?”

Michael smiled and shook his head. “C’mon.”

Christy stood and turned to the mirror. With a quick glance at Michael, he expertly laced his lips with the gloss. Michael encircled his waist from behind. “You look gorgeous.”

Christy smiled, but it slipped away. “I must fix my hair.”

“I’ll get the clips.”

C
HRISTY
finished his breakfast as a knock sounded at the door. “I will get it.”

Michael smiled and admired Christy as he worked his way carefully off the stool. He was trying so hard to be independent. He watched Christy stand on his very tiptoes to look out the peephole, and then open the door to a smiling Bobbie.

“Hello, Mrs. Sattler.”

“Hi, Christy. My, don’t you look lovely,” she said as she entered the cabin.

“Thank you. Michael chose the clothes.”

“They are lovely.”

“Hey, Mom,” Michael greeted as he kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes. She looked okay. In fact, she looked the best he’d seen in three weeks. “You good?”

“Fine, honey.”

Christy climbed back onto his stool and drank the last of his juice.

Bobbie took the stool next to him and poured a glass of juice for herself. “I like the jumpsuit. I don’t suppose you can tell me where I can get one for myself.”

“I don’t know, but Sophia will know. She gives me the clothes.”

“How nice. I’ll be sure to ask her. So, tell me about this loft project.”