tagGay MaleDancing With Tears In My Eyes Ch. 03

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes Ch. 03

byvelvetpie©

Conor arose to an empty house the next morning and a hastily scribbled note taped to his door. Got a call and had to go to the hospital. Hopefully I'll be back by the time you get up. Please wait for me. Shawn. Conor's heart fluttered at the last words. Please wait for me. Again, a vision of their kiss arose unbidden and he shuddered, his cock stiffening under his fingertips. He laid back down on the bed and started stroking himself in earnest. He closed his eyes and thought of Shawn, of his warm, blue eyes and of being lost in them.

That kiss ... that kiss had been so hot. So tender and innocent and soul-searing hot. Conor never could have imagined that just a kiss could have gotten him so worked up but it had. Electricity had crackled between them, adding a dimension to their connected mouths that set the air on fire. He thought he was dreaming. He slid his hand down, opening his palm to cup his balls and gave them a rough tug, moaning as he stroked his thick stalk again.

A bone-weary Shawn climbed the stairs, heading for his bedroom and hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before Conor awoke and paused on the landing when he heard the sound. He wasn't quite sure but it sounded like a cry. Maybe Conor was having a nightmare. The door was open and Shawn froze in place at the sight of Conor's naked body, sprawled across the sheets, his hand on a fairly thick cock. His dick sprang to life in the painful constraints of his jeans and he freed himself, rubbing his cock until it was covered with pre-cum.

How would it feel to have Shawn's callused hands on his body? Delicious, he thought. God, he could probably just cum from that feeling alone. He gave himself a few long strokes, squirming as he felt his abdomen tighten, pleasure unfurling throughout his body. He suddenly wanted to be on his knees in front of Shawn, letting him skullfuck his mouth to his heart's desire.

"Oh, yes, Shawn." Conor's whimper sent trembles down Shawn's spine. "Fuck my mouth! Let me suck you dry!" Shawn leaned against the wall, one hand propping him up on the door jamb while the other stroked his meat. Conor looked good enough to eat. His lean, muscled body was rapidly becoming covered with a light sheen of sweat and every downy inch beckoned to Shawn's tongue. "Oh, I want to taste you!"

Conor imagined the scene. On his knees, looking up into Shawn's eyes. Shawn's hand forcing his head forward, filling his mouth with hard cock. The moment when his glorious cum flooded his mouth ... the breath caught in Conor's throat as Shawn did something different in his daydream. With a rough turn, Conor was pushed around and fingers were pushed into his asshole, warming him for an assault. "Oh, yes! Oh, Shawn! Please!"

Shawn's hand moved faster now, his breathing light but deep, his brow wet with sweat. Conor's legs were wide open and in the air, three fingers plunging deep into his asshole while his other hand moved with blurring speed over his cock. Shawn closed his eyes, imagining that his dick was sinking into Conor's body, slamming home then pulling out again. He felt his balls drawing up and the familiar prickling made his skin dance with anticipation. He tried to hold it back but when he heard Conor's last exclamation, he was lost.

"Fuck me! Fuck me, Shawn, please! Oh, God, I'm cumming!" Conor gave himself over to his climax, loudly whimpering Shawn's name over and over as ropes of cum spurted from his prick, splashing onto his chest. Out in the hallway, Shawn was fiercely biting his hand as he erupted into his palm, his body jerking uncontrollably and his legs threatening to collapse. As Conor's whimpers echoed down the hall, he silently moved away, heading back down the stairs and washing up in the kitchen. Then, he slammed the front door and pretended that he'd just gotten home.

Ten minutes later, a freshly showered Conor came down the stairs, wearing a borrowed robe and a smile. "Morning."

"Hey."

"Just getting back?"

"Yeah. I'm beat."

"Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good. I'm making breakfast."

Shawn slumped into the chair, partly exhausted from work and partly from cumming so hard minutes earlier. "You don't have to, Conor. It's okay."

"I don't know you very well, but would you do me a favor? Shut up." Conor walked over to where Shawn sat and smoothed his hair back. "You've been up all night while I've been sleeping. The least I can do is cook for you."

Shawn closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Conor's fingers in his hair. He was so tired. He could just fall asleep right now but his grumbling stomach was bound to wake him up. "Conor ... "

"No. Let me take care of you, please?"

The softness in Conor's voice wove a spell around Shawn's drained mind and the doctor found himself being walked up the stairs and led into the bathroom. Conor's gentle hands peeled the clothing from his body: first, the jacket, then shirt, shoes and finally pants. Shawn heard the shower go on and Conor held the plastic curtain back as he stepped in. The steamy water felt good, pounding his insensate skin. But he just suddenly felt so tired, so bone-weary that he didn't have the strength to stand.

Conor watched in horror as Shawn slid to the floor, his blue eyes glazed. "I'm sorry." His whispered words ensnared Conor and he stripped quickly, stepping into the tub and helping Shawn to his feet. "Sorry. I'm just so ... tired."

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"An hour."

"And the night before?"

"None."

"And the night before that?" When Shawn offered no answer, Conor swore. "You haven't had any sleep in three days?"

"Alan was dying. I couldn't sleep." Shawn's words were slurred and he was doing everything he could to stay standing. "I couldn't miss his last breath. I had to be there for him."

Conor soaped Shawn's back, rubbing the roughened washcloth across his broad shoulders, over his narrowed hips and around strong legs. He slowly turned and Conor scrubbed his chest, groin and legs, then pushed him under the pulsating jets, rinsing him clean. Once outside the tub, he toweled Shawn dry and led him to his bed, watching him lay down and tucking the crispy sheets around him.

"Do you have to work tonight?"

"No, but I'm on call in case someone dies."

"Fine. Then go to sleep. I'll wake you for lunch." Conor turned to go. Then,

"Kiss me."

This kiss was even more tender than the one they'd previously shared because they weren't on equal ground. Now it was Conor who sought to seduce Shawn's senses with his passion and Shawn who sought the peace and comfort of Conor's embrace. Conor firmly fitted his mouth over Shawn's, pressing down until Shawn's jaw opened and his tongue slipped gently against his. Fear overruled his stronger senses and he pulled back, pressing his mouth across Shawn's brow and touching his lips to each closed eyelid.

"Sleep well."

"Thank you."

Conor stood in the doorway for a long time, watching the doctor sleep and crept back over to his side, running his fingers over Shawn's lips and jaw. He was so handsome, even with the scar on his chin. So handsome. He won't want you, not after he learns the truth. Conor slowly arose, pain etched on his features and silently slipped from the room.

* * * * *

The phone's jangling awoke Shawn from a deep, restful sleep and he reached for the phone, astonished to see inky darkness between the slats of the blinds. The sun had gone down and velvety black was punctured by a multitude of stars, stretching over the horizon and broken only by lazy streetlights perched atop the hills.

"Hello?"

"Hey, sleepyhead! Did you forget our dinner date?"

"Oh, Daphne! I'm sorry. What time is it?"

"Nearly eight."

"Eight? At night?"

"Yes, dearie. Post meridian."

"Daphne, I've never slept this late in my life."

"Who is he?"

"Wha – what?"

"You heard me, Shawn. I didn't stutter. Who is he?"

"Who is who?"

"Whomever you've got there that's allowing you to sleep so well." Her voice was filled with laughter. "What's his name?"

The house was quiet so Shawn's answer was subdued and disappointed. "No one, Daph. Just a dream."

"Never had anyone describe me like that." Conor wanted to shout with laughter at the look of astonishment on Shawn's face. He shoved the hot mug into the doctor's hand and took the phone from him. "Hi, Daphne. I'm Conor."

"Oh! You're Alan's son!"

"Yes."

"So you've been taking care of our fine young doctor?"

"As much as he'll allow me to." Conor glanced over at Shawn and watched him take a tentative sip from the mug, humming in delight. "Listen, I've made dinner. Why don't you come over here?"

"I'll be over in a jiffy! Should I bring anything?"

"A few more bottles of wine and clothes to spend the night. Cool?"

Daphne giggled. "Cool."

"Oh, and if you have any interesting PlayStation games or X-rated DVDs, those would also be welcome."

Snorting in glee, Daphne signed off. "Okay. See you in a few."

"What the hell is this? It's wonderful!"

"A bastardized version of grog. Apple cider, spices and Captain Morgan's silver rum."

"Mmmm." Shawn turned over on his back, the sheets falling away to expose a patch of curly dark pubic hair at his waist. "Oh, this is so good!"

"I usually make it for Christmas but I thought it would be good now. Besides, it is cold outside and it is nearly Thanksgiving." Conor stepped back, smiling at Shawn's reaction. "I think it's close enough."

Shawn took another sip, loving the way the hot beverage warmed him to his toes. "Thanks for putting me to bed. I was exhausted."

"Doesn't surprise me after you told me how much you didn't sleep." Conor balanced on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to ignore the tempting exposed expanse of Shawn's skin. "Now get dressed. Daphne's on her way over and I have to set the table!"

Shawn watched Conor leave, then pulled on a respectable pair of sweats and hopped down the stairs like a kid at Christmas. The kitchen island was set with festive dishware that he'd forgotten he'd owned and the scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the air. Conor was removing a large roast from the oven and basting it with its delectable juices when Shawn pulled up a chair.

"Wow! And I thought I could cook!"

Conor blushed at the compliment. "Well, you were sleeping so I went out and bought some things. You looked like you hadn't had a good meal in a long time."

"Hey! I can cook!"

"Sure, Shawn. Tacos, hamburgers, steaks ... whatever happened to veggies and salads?"

"Uh, nothing."

Conor laughed at the doctor. "Nothing, except they don't exist in your kitchen." He poured the juices into a pan and added flour to thicken it. "Why don't you get us another bottle of wine and a glass for Daphne?"

* * * * *

"I'll be leaving tomorrow."

Shawn desperately wanted to pretend that he hadn't heard Conor's words but he knew they'd be coming soon. The words put a damper on the otherwise fantastic evening. Right now, Daphne was passed out in the guest room and both he and Conor were close to passing out themselves. Conor's dinner of beef roast with gravy, roasted whole red-skinned potatoes and baby carrots and store-bought apple pie had started the party. The pot Daphne had brought and the wine Shawn provided had continued the merriment.

Shawn hadn't had that much fun in a long time and he had watched Conor all night, falling in love with his easy manner and his quick wit. Falling in love with him. He'd known it the instant that he'd seen him at the funeral, touching Alan's lifeless hand and speaking his heart. Something in Conor's face spoke vulnerability in volumes. An emotional vulnerability that Shawn had sensed in their kisses and wondered what secrets the man was hiding. He also wondered if he was smitten enough to ignore that fact ...

"Shawn?"

"Uh, yeah. I heard you."

"Maybe you'd better get to bed."

"Yeah, it's awfully late." Shawn stretched. "You take my bed."

"What? I can't do that. Where will you sleep?"

"The couch. It's quite comfortable."

"I can't take your bed, Shawn."

"Well then," The words came out of his mouth before he thought about what he was saying. "Share it with me."

"Okay." Conor was surprised at his own answer but chalked it down to the weed. No, fuck that. He'd said it because he wanted to say it. Because he wanted to share this beautiful man's bed. Even if he couldn't have sex with him, he could enjoy being near him. Being near him was like being near his father and he felt comforted and wanted. "But don't hog the sheets."

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byvelvetpie© 3 comments/ 37059 views/ 10 favorites
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