Fuck! Imaginingdoctororgood boyin Trey’s voice equally sends me careening over the edge.
“P-please… take care of me, Daddy.”
That’s my good boy.
I come with a spurt over my fingers and probably with enough of an arch to spill onto the floor. I am beyond feverish now, sweaty and breathless, and… whoa, okay, maybe I do need a puff from my inhaler. I’m still picturing Trey stroking me as I ring out the last of my release. He’s still on his knees, marveling at me with that complete focus of attention like nothing else in the room could compare to just… me.
He brings his fingers to his lips to taste me. Meaning I do, but picturing Trey doing it—oh, he would; I could so believe he would—leaves me limp and content and so wishing he had come upstairs.
Three more dates. I am going to be getting very well reacquainted with my own hands during this time, and I’ll probably keep over-idolizing how our real first time might go, but damn, if Trey isn’t the first person I’ve ever met who I truly believe would never disappoint me.
I drop my head against the door again with a faint thud. I am so fucked. How am I in this deep after only one date? One and a half sort of. I’m usually smarter than this, more resistant, because my track record sucks and my day job always gets in the way, but for once, the object of my affection doesn’t seem like he’ll mind.
I might mind, because I already really want to see him again, and Saturday feels so far away. I would have suggestedtomorrowif I didn’t want to avoid sounding desperate. I wonder if he’s texted me already. He might have. An extra little tease to—
My phone rings, and I nearly lose my breath enough to seriously need my inhaler. Trey? But when I fish it out of my slacks on the floor with my clean hand, it’s one of Curtis’s friends. A semi-mutual friend. I mean, someone I like fine, but I wouldn’t know without Curtis, and it is an instant cold shower.
I kick out of the tangle of my underwear and slacks and make a beeline for the kitchen to wash my other hand. By the time I answer, I’m still sticky, bare-assed, and in need of more cleanup, but the lump in my throat makes it too weird to not check what this is about so I can never think of Curtis again.
The matcha stuffie from Noah is sitting on my kitchen island, well within view of what I did against the door. At least answering the phone half-dressed on this side of the island means one less instance of scarring him for life.
“Uh, yeah? Hello. This is Walker.”
“Dude, thank God! It’s Bryan. Sorry to call out of the blue like this, but have you heard from Curtis? I’m kind of freaking out.”
My stomach sinks, which sends my gaze to the floor too and right in line with my still slightly hard dick. “Uh, we broke up,” I blurt, because how else do I even respond to this right now? “I guess Curtis hasn’t told anyone yet, but I don’t know what he’s doing right now.”And he’s not my problem anymore.I couldn’t actually say that. I don’t want to bethatdick.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Bryan says, and he sounds like he means it. He was always a decent guy, but maybe not someone I’d naturally hang out with if not for Curtis. “Maybe that’s why he’s being radio silent. It just caught me off guard. You know how glued he is to his phone.”
Yep. Twenty-four-seven sales guy, but I was the workaholic, and only he was allowed to complain about it. “Too true. He did have some work event last night and a conference out of town starting today, so maybe he just hasn’t had the chance to check his messages.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I’m probably being paranoid, I’m just not used to him not even answering texts, you know? Plus, calling just goes straight to voicemail like his phone is dead. Or off? Has he ever shut his phone off?” Bryan chuckles.
Considering it went off mid-fuck once and I still ended up being called the bad guy after he answered? No. No, I don’t think he ever has shut his phone off, but fuck if I care.
Again, I don’t say that.
“My guess is work bender and all is fine,” I choose instead.
Since I’m facing the island, I also see the small simple frame currently facedown next to the matcha stuffie. I wanted to cool down before disposing of it, but I tilt it upright now. Funnily enough, Bryan was the one who took this photo. It’s just us, me and Curtis, candidly sharing a laugh. I didn’t even know Bryan took the picture until he emailed it to me, and I printed off a few copies in different sizes.
When I tried to give one to Curtis this same size, he said, “I don’t know if I’m really the snapshots on the walls and end tables kinda guy.”
“You could take a smaller one? Keep it in your wallet for when you miss me?”
“Do people do that?” He’d huffed like it was oh so quaint I’d even suggested such a thing.
He did put the photo in his wallet. It’s probably there now—until he finds it when sifting through credit cards at some unknown date and chucks it. I should have known then we weren’t right for each other.
I drop the whole thing into the trashcan and hear the glass break. I never liked that frame anyway. Too art deco for my apartment.
It's your basic one-bedroom bachelor pad. A little dark, especially with the curtains and shades drawn, with exposed brick on one wall of the living room, and black cabinets in the kitchen. I like it darker. It's cozy and safe like being wrapped in a warm blanket and very helpful for reducing stress. Plus, I'm around the harsh fluorescents of the hospital most of the time, so this is a nice break. I'm not much of a decorator, but no cheap IKEA crap adorns my place, mostly hand-me-down furniture, but good solid stuff that will last, all plush and soft and richly colored, and with some of my favorite posters framed on the wall.
Like my FIRST DO NO HARM poster. It’s cliché for a doctor and mine is maybe a little morbid, but I love that poster. Most have the Caduceus with two snakes and wings, but this one has my symbol, the Rod of Asclepius like what I have tattooed down my spine. That’s actually what makes the poster morbid, because instead of a snake wrapped around a rod, it’s wrapped around a human spine with an exposed brain at the top. Super metal and with the most important words of the Hippocratic Oath emblazoned artistically around it.
“I’d expect a drunk dial tonight,” I say to Bryan, “and if not, at least one before the conference ends. Sorry. I’m not trying to badmouth him, but we ended things pretty upset with each other. I’m still sorry I can’t help. Keep me posted if you hear from him?Don’thave him call me butyoucan, just so I know he’s okay.” At least that should make me sound a little less like a jilted lover.
“Will do, Walker. Thanks, man. Sorry you two didn’t work out. I know Curtis can be a dick sometimes, but I honestly thought you were good for him.”
