Coma

"Of course I want to fuck you," I said, in a somewhat strangled voice. "But, again, I don't want a pity or 'because you did me a favor' fuck." That made me stop to think. Wasn't I granting Timothy a pity fuck earlier today? How arrogant of me. "I don't fuck men because they are grateful for something I've done for them."

"I want you to fuck me. It wouldn't be a pity fuck. And I hope it's not just one," he said, going on his knees now and moving toward me. He was looming in front of me. "I want you to fuck me because you're gorgeous. I've wanted you to fuck me from the moment you were dragging me out of the water." He cupped the back of my neck, moving our faces together. His other hand went to my fly and he unzipped me. While we kissed, he moved his hand inside my fly and pulled my cock out. He gasped and pulled away from the kiss. "Shit, you're huge," he whispered.

"Yes, I am," I said. "Your body is small. You may not want to take me—you might not be able to take me."

"I'll manage. Edmund is big. Other men have been big, but maybe not the champion you are. I want it. Fuck me. Fuck the shit out of me. Fuck me all afternoon."

So, I did.

I fucked him on the sofa after he brought his mouth down to my cock and gagged an expert sucking. And after I pressed his butt back into the edge between the cushion and the sofa arm, I returned the favor of the suck and finger fucked him with three lubed fingers, starting the process of preparing him for me. After that I turned him over so that his belly was on the arm of the sofa and his torso and arms were dangling down on the other side. I crouched over his back and put it in as he groaned at the taking of it. I worked hard to get my dick inside him as he writhed and sobbed underneath me, clutching me to him with arms flung back to grasp my buttocks with his hands when I asked him if he needed me to stop. Once in and urged by his, "Oh, shit, yes. Fuck me hard; fuck me deep," I did just that, cupping his chin and pulling the back of his raven-black-haired head into my chest and pounded the hell out of his ass as he cried out that mine was the biggest shaft that had ever worked him. Subduing him totally, taking no prisoners, taking the leave he was giving me to "Do it all; take it all."

Later I fucked him on the king-sized bed in the cottage's only bedroom, in a missionary, holding his legs spread and raised with a grip on his ankles, pulling his legs into his body as I slid my cock out of the passage in long glides and then spreading his legs wide as I plunged down inside him and he arched his back and cried out to the ceiling. Cock out, legs in; cock in, legs spread. Again and again I thrust deep until he was quivering, whimpering jelly. Then and only then, I pulled out of him, stripped the third Maxim we'd used off my shaft, and came on his shimmering belly.

Then he rode me, me on my back on the bed, and he straddling my pelvis, both facing me and facing my feet as he revolved on the cock, taking me deep again and again as he danced on the shaft, declaring that he couldn't get enough of me and proving it by taking everything I had to give.

As the shadows were creeping across the bedroom carpet, he was lying on top of me, his shoulder blades pressing into my pecs, his legs bent, feet flat on the mattress on either side of my hips, his arms flung over his head, fingers grasping the top of the headboard, raising and lowering his pelvis. I slowly, deeply mined his ass channel, the muscles of his passage walls undulating over my shaft, as I fucked him deep.

His channel had blossomed open to me over progressive fucks until now he fit me like a glove with no groaning and crying out. He was mine now—at least I fancied that he was, as I had fucked him all afternoon and he had submitted to everything, gone with it all. I joked that he was trained to take a wine bottle now and that just maybe that was what we'd do next. He just laughed. And because he laughed, I let the plans for doing so float through my mind.

"Would you really—?"

"Whatever you want," he'd answered. "Ruin me if you want."

So that you would be of no use to Sir Edmund, I wondered. The absent, but ever present, hotel owner and master of Kyle would not have to slip away in his coma then. I wouldn't have to secretly wish him dead and out of the way. Kyle would be totally mine. No one else could fuck him and make him feel it then. But that didn't come to pass. I had dozed off, still inside him, before I could put action to intent.

When I woke, it was dark in the room, and I was alone. I knew where Kyle had gone; I hadn't won anything. It had been selfish of me even to contemplating displacing Sir Edmund. Kyle had been a delicious lay, but he hadn't done it for me. He'd done it in gratefulness for the lives I'd saved. I don't think he would have done it in any other circumstance.

But it was some of the best fucking I'd ever had. It had been a chore but eventually the sweet young Adonis had opened up to my needs. Of course, Timothy was reamed to my specifications too—from the first fuck.

* * * *

I can't say I'm surprised at what I found when I got to the hospital. Sir Edmund was awake and sitting up in his bed. I had known that it was just as likely that he'd come out of it and be OK as it would go in the other direction. When I looked in the window of the door into the room, he was lying there mooning at Kyle, who had drawn a chair close to the bed and was nearly draped over Sir Edmund's torso, holding the hotel owner's hand in his two as if the older man might drift away if Kyle didn't anchor him down. The younger man was mooning at the older with as much a worshipful and joyous stare as he was receiving.

I didn't go in. I didn't stand a chance against the devotion those two exhibited for each other.

Like a zombie in a trance I went to the elevator and went down two stories to the waiting room of the imaging clinic. I sat and waited. I had no idea what I was waiting for—or why. I didn't even know why I was waiting here. This wasn't the orthopedic floor—and I had an office there; I didn't have to sit out in the waiting room.

It was like I was in a coma—like when the coma had been lifted from Sir Edmund it had floated over to me. That didn't mean my brain was closed down, though. It was working overtime. Such irony. Timothy had expressed—and demonstrated—a love for me and he'd lost his cushy situation with Julius over it. And I had been callous. And here I'd been smitten with Kyle, thinking of it as love, coming closer to love than I had with anyone else in my life. But he had Sir Edmund and Sir Edmund had him—and all was right with the world for those two. How is it that you can't have the one you love? But the more I thought about it, it wasn't as hard edged as that.

I realized why I was sitting, waiting, in the imaging clinic when I saw him walk from the clinic area, in his street clothes, his medical scrubs under his arm. Timothy had been on duty and was getting off. I knew his schedule.

He gave me a little hurt smile when he saw me. I rose, crossed the waiting room, which was empty now because outpatient hours were over and the imaging for hospital patients wouldn't start for another hour. I touched his arm with the fingers of my right hand and said, "Here you are. Sorry how I left you at George's Bay. I had an emergency to deal with." He gave me a surprised, yet hopeful look.

"Yes, you did," he said. "How is the man doing?"

"It was Sir Edmund Sedgwick from over at the Rosedon Hotel," I answered. "I just left his room. He was in a coma but he's out of that now." I didn't mention Kyle Riley at all. Kyle was just a figure from the past—someone who had helped me figure out how not to be an arrogant ass.

I could have apologized for the way I had been dumping him out at George's Bay, but I could see that that wouldn't be necessary—that Timothy was smitten and would easily forget I had dumped on him if I let him. And now I knew why I had come to the imaging clinic from Sir Edmund's room and waited.

"I'm glad to hear that. Listen, Ross—"

"Let's go to my place and play around," I said, giving him a smile.

He looked surprised but then he smiled back. "Yes, I'd like that."

"So would I," I said, realizing that I meant it.