Coven of Angels Ch. 03

My mother was screaming at me in Spanish. Even holding my phone away from my ear, I could hear her as clear as day and it was getting fucking annoying. I was tempted to simply hang up on her. However, I knew she had a smart phone of her own and would likely call back over and over, until my battery died (and then she would proceed to fill my voice mail inbox with further anger, guilt and hate.) I didn't even speak Spanish. (I could hold a polite conversation or order a meal, but the rest was gibberish. And my mother knew that.) All I wanted was answers, but I'd settle for a break in the yelling. "You finished now, Mama?"

She took a breath, calming herself enough to switch to English. "No, I'm not finished. I am very upset and disappointed in you!"

"I'm twenty-three, you don't get to pull that crap on me anymore."

"Oh, you act so brave all the way in Montana."

"South Dakota."

"Whatever! you're still my child, my little boy. I raised you as a single parent, I gave up everything for you."

"You gave up being a dancer."

My mother cleared her throat, forcing back her anger. "What else has your father been telling you?"

"You were the one who started the divorce proceedings, with the goal of cutting him out of our lives."

"Well, at least he's not a liar."

"Really, Mom? And what did he do to deserve that?"

"He cheated on me with a man! Several actually. I don't know the exact number."

"When?"

"What do you mean, when?

"When did it start? When did you catch him?" I asked like a police officer, questioning the truth of her story.

"I don't want to discuss this, not with you!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're my son. I raised you to be a God-fearing young man, who could live a life free of sin."

The fact that she brought up the s-word, caused me to double over with laughter. "You can't be serious."

My mother muttered in Spanish, shouting and cursing before switching back to English to secure my eternal damnation. "That bastard has you brainwashed, doesn't he? I always knew this would happen! Watch your ass; you're just his type, he always goes for the younger ones. that's how he lost his first major job. Did he tell you that?"

She didn't wait for a response before sharing her version of the events. "It was a Michelin star restaurant, a wonderful opportunity with great potential. And he fucked the headwaiter!"

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Yes, Jeffery, ask your saintly father about that!" My mother then hung up on me.

Leo approached, patting me on the back. "Wow, it went that well, huh?"

"She doesn't have the right to be upset at me." I said as I hurled my phone across the room. thankfully it landed on carpet, so I didn't have to do the walk of shame to pick it up. "She's the one who filled my head with lies! She just assumed I'd believe her; I'd take her side, like a loyal dog, for the rest of my life."

"Or her life," Leo said with a chuckle. "Unless you believe that angry Hispanic mothers can beat your ass from beyond the grave."

My father entered the kitchen navigating with the use of his cane. "Who are we talking about?"

"Nothing much," Leo muttered, "Just Jeff's total bitch of a mother."

"Don't talk like that," my dad said with a sarcastic laugh. He reached for a chair making himself comfortable in his open robe. "No woman is a bitch. Although some of them are evil cunts, like my ex-wife."

All I could do was sigh. "So, where's Tomas? Is he still in bed?"

"You're asking the blind man?" my dad held out his hand, and like magic, Leo placed a cup of coffee in his grasp. "Thank you kindly, Sir."

"I prefer private," Leo said with a giggle. He stroked a finger to Richard's cheek, tracing along his jaw.

Before my father could offer a cheeky 'dad-joke' comeback, I caught sight of the nurse returning from a morning walk. "Tomas!"

"Good morning, Jeff." He raised his chin to say hello since his hands were full of coffee and doughnuts.

"Can we talk?"

"Certainly, what do you wish to discuss?" Tomas handed Leo the tray of hot drinks before putting the doughnuts on the table. "Just allow me a second to check on my patient." He took a seat beside Richard, carefully gripping my father's wrist. "Your pulse seems to be stabilized." Tomas rested his thumb in my father's palm, as if to gently massage his hand. Any more panic attacks?"

"Not sense last night. The pain's been pretty manageable." My father placed his hand to his chest, rubbing his collarbone, down his sternum.

I was more than a little concerned. "You had a panic attack?"

Richard's hand trembled slightly as he took a sip of his drink. "Just some chest pain, nothing a little portable oxygen couldn't fix."

Tomas gave Richard's free hand a comforting squeeze. "Are you sure you don't need any morphine?"

"I'm good, Tommy. I promise."

"You tell me if you need anything. And if I'm not here, tell Leo, ok?" Tomas stood up. "So, Jeff are you ready to go on a lovely walk?"

"Yeah," I said with a forced smile. I wanted to ask about his academic grant but now I also wanted to know what happened after I put my father to bed in the main room.

Tomas started walking, his stride wider and stronger then my own. He was like one of those Olympic power walkers; people who might as well be running.

"You're here on a grant? Are you doing a research paper on my," I paused as I jogged to catch up with Tomas, "Richard Blake?"

"I can certainly talk to you about that." Tomas crossed his arms, somehow increasing his pace while still at a walking tempo.

"What's your problem?"

"You can't call him your father?"

"Excuse me?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. He had to be joking. "I thought we were holding off on that, for the sake of his mental state?"

"I never said you couldn't tell him." Tomas started to cross the two-lane highway towards the gas station. "Richard might not remember you; he might be confused or even afraid, but you have a limited amount of time."

I sprinted to catch up, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. "What exactly happened last night?" I knew that question held all the answers.

Tomas sighed, still unwilling to face me. "Your father suffered what I can only describe as an 'incident.' It was something akin to a PTSD induced panic attack, with asthma, and a full body seizure. I was thankfully able to sedate him, using the IV-line drugs I had on hand." Tomas stopped by the entrance to the parking lot, catching his breath.

As I approached, I could see the strong nurse wasn't tired, he was trying his best not to cry. "Tomas?"

"The pain your father is currently struggling with, goes deeper than his physical body."

"What do you mean?"

"The cancer is everywhere. His lungs are filling with tumors which causes stress on his heart and then the lack of air causes him to seize. He is sicker than any patient I've ever seen."

"And yet he's not dead." From a medical standpoint, my father had no reason to get out of bed. Logically, he should've been wheelchair bound, with a feeding tube (certainly not walking on his own.) Somehow his spirit wanted to stay, to experience coffee, doughnuts and lots of sex. Yeah, that had to be it; he was staying alive for the gifts of physical pleasure.

Tomas shook his head, blinking away a single tear. "Richard Blake cries out for his son. His heart is so broken. I have reason to believe, in his last moments, Richard's final thoughts will be of the child he lost."

"Is that the subject of your academic study? Did you know I was coming to South Dakota?" That was a stupid question: he did. I had located my father through my university contacts (many of whom had VA medical positions.) They all knew my story. one of them must have mentioned something to someone and somehow Tomas found out about my fucked-up reunion fantasy.

"Yup." Tomas replied, as if it was the most obvious answer. "It was always my intention to study the psychological effects of estrangement." He took a few calming breaths, before heading inside.

I followed him into the store where he purchased a bottle of wine, a bag of gummy bears and a spray can of whipped cream. I expected him to continue his explanation but instead he opened the bag of candy, as we walked across the parking lot, heading back to the main road. "Gummy bear?"

"No thanks," I replied, a little more than annoyed. "How did you find out about my father's case?"

"Does it matter? The past is gone forever, and the future is yet to be written. All we have is today."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You have many questions," he said, walking in the direction of the garden. "I implore you to act with bravery and courage."

"Ok." The moment we approached the fence that surrounded Leo's property, Tomas started to undress. He began to unbutton his shirt, while still eating candy and holding the grocery bag. I assumed he was compensating for the heat, but once we entered the yard, I was made aware of his full intentions.

My father was laying on the picnic table, arms behind his head, with his robe completely open. The lean muscular middle-aged man was practically begging to be fucked. "Tommy, is that you?"

"Who else would it be?"

Richard reached his hand in to a bowl of strawberries, crushing several between his fingers. "I've been waiting."

Tomas leaned over and kissed my father's lips. "Allow me to dress you like the piece of meat that you are." The nurse picked up a bottle of syrup, and began to adorn my father's body with long, elaborate streams. Then, like a toddler playing with finger paints, He smeared the thick liquid all over both their bodies.

I could hear Tomas remove his belt, revealing his cock. I moved closer, closing the gate behind me. Tomas was gripping his own shaft, masturbating over Richard's body. They were grinding, panting, like dogs in heat. Then Tomas stopped short of actually penetrating him.

"What gives, Tommy?" my father asked, as he pressed his lips to his lover's ear.

Tomas spoke in a breathy whisper, "I wanted to give the honor to the new guy. After all he's the reason we're all here." He turned to me, reaching out his hand. "Don't be shy."

"I'm not." I laughed awkwardly.

"I know." Tomas kissed my cheek, moving his lips to my ear. "I know what you did in the bathtub last night."

Or what I had wanted to do. After becoming soaking wet, I did kiss my father on the mouth, but that was as far as I'd let it go. I knew he wanted to touch me, to truly see me with his magical fingers. I could have allowed that. It would have been so easy. Instead, I put him to bed, leaving him in Tomas's care. I felt a little guilty; Richard Blake was more than a patient. Thankfully, this was my second chance.

I sat on my father's lap, fully clothed, with his moist, erect cock pressed against my back. His hands were on my stomach, moving under my sweaty t-shirt. I could feel his rough fingers caress my ribs, up to my chest. When he reached my hard, tense, nipples I knew there was no going back. With a wild uncontrollable moan, I repositioned my arms, allowing Richard to remove my shirt.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," my father whispered in my ear. The subtle sensation of his chapped lips against my skin sent shivers down my spine. Last night we'd kissed, but nothing more. We'd laughed at the hilarity of me getting into the bathtub with him, fully clothed. That was about to change. Everything was about to change.

My father's finger was tracing a delicate line down my hips, to my ass. Another pair of hands (possibly Leo) lowered my sweatpants to my knees.

Richard laughed. "Come on, Leo, it's my turn to have some fun with him." My father cupped his hand to my face, turning me to kiss him.

My mouth opened and closed, taking in his breath. I could feel my heart racing. In my line of sight was the chest tattoo of a baby hand: my hand. All I wanted to do was touch it.

Somehow my father could sense my hesitation. "You a virgin or something?"

"No." I reached for his hand, placing it between my legs. 'Can you feel how hard I am, Daddy? It's all for you.'

"We don't have to do this, if you don't want to," my father whispered in my ear as he gave my throbbing balls a tender squeeze.

"I want to."

My father lowered me over the table, I was now the main course. Leo gripped my left ankle, drizzling honey down my trembling thighs as he spread my legs wide. I could practically feel the air touching my asshole.

"Does honey make good lube?" My father asked as he took a whiff of my thigh.

"Only one way to find out." He rubbed my tip, mixing the honey with my precum, before lubing his cock. Instead of putting himself inside me, my father was moving carefully and slow, rubbing the length of his shaft against my hole. "Are you ready for me?"

He lifted my leg, stretching my hips as he penetrated my tight hole. I felt my body tense. 'Oh, dear. God.' He was hitting my prostate with every thrust. 'Yes, Daddy.' And I wanted to devour him whole. "Will you hold me?" I wanted to be on top, to ride him, but I'd settle for having us both on the table.

My father pulled me close, inviting me to put my arms around him. I held on for dear life, burying my face in his sweaty neck. He moaned, leaning his head back. "What do I taste like?"

I cupped his face, looking into his blind eyes, thinking of an answer. He tasted like cigarettes and caramel, vanilla and honey. "Like toothpaste and bodywash, peppermint and wine; you taste like everything good in this world."

Locked in a passionate kiss, we shifted positions until I was on top. His milky eyes seemed to stare deep into my soul. Even with my leg stretched awkwardly over his shoulder, the power was in my court; I was now or never. "I have something to say."

"Just say it."

"I was born on January third, in Las Vegas Nevada. I remember your blue eyes. I remember how our breath tasted like cheap coffee and cigarettes, how your voice sounded when you called home, even when mom wouldn't let me talk to you." As a child I made it a point to listen in on the other line. if I was quiet enough, I could hear the whole conversation without getting caught. "My name is Jeffery Carlos Blake, you're my father."

Richard's breath became soft and slow. "What?" He reached out his hand, stroking his fingers down my face. "It can't be." His voice trembled as he smiled through visible tears. "You have your mother's eyes. She had the most unique eyes, like teardrop diamonds." He traced a finger down my jaw, to my lips.

I kissed his fingertips, tasting the sweetness of the strawberries. His hand went stiff, exploring the inside of my mouth. I started licking and sucking; everything I wanted to do to his magnificent cock. This should've felt wrong, but it didn't. I was already in his arms; I could practically feel his heart beating through his chest.

My father was still balls-deep inside me, rock hard, throbbing. I could still feel him thrusting, hitting my prostate with every motion. He was going to blow his load in my ass. And there was nothing I desired more. I wanted to be the one to give him pleasure, peace. I wanted to be the one to save his soul.

I moved my focus to his lips, kissing him once then twice, before giving his lower lip a tender bite.

His nostrils flared, as he leaned his head back. "You fuck better than your mama."

"Thank you, Sir." I kissed his pouty lips, down his neck to the port on his chest.

My father ran his fingers through my hair, holding my head in place. The more I sucked on his skin, the harder he fucked me. His stomach felt tight, strong. "This has to be a dream." My father started talking to the sky, addressing someone only he could see. "You said you went to medical school?"

"Um, yeah," I replied awkwardly, while experiencing a deep intense anal orgasm.

"You said you're going to be a doctor?"

I could tell, the idea filled his heart with light and his lungs with clean life-giving air. This was what hope looked like. "Yeah, Dad."

"Will you leave the world a better place?

"That's the plan."

Richard placed his fingers to my neck, caressing slowly as if studying the muscles of my throat, to my collarbone. "You remind me so much of ...him." My father closed his eyes as he climaxed hard. I could feel everything; his hot love seed defiling my ass, dripping down my balls, to my sunbaked thighs.

My body tensed, desperately trying to hold on to every part of him. "Did you just say, him?" With my father's spent cock inside me, all I wanted was to hold him. However, my mouth and my heart were at an impasse. "Did you cheat on my mother with the head waiter of a Michelin star restaurant?"

"Carlos was a busboy." My father's eyes were still closed, as he looked up towards the heavens. "He was a twenty-year-old immigrant, a cousin of the head waiter. We fell in love."

"Carlos, as in my middle name?" My mother had always told me that Carlos was the name of her older brother who died just short of crossing the border into Mexico.

"I was prepared to leave your mother, but I was weak and she was cruel." Richard shifted his legs, to sit up, while still holding me in a bear hug. "Carlos, he wanted to stay with me. He always believed we could find a way to be together. In this life or the next."

I placed my hand to his, guiding him to touch my heart. "So, what now?"

"I think we could use a shower, and maybe a glass of wine."

The afternoon ended up being me, Leo and Tomas enjoying the bottle of wine while my father was given an IV bag of morphine, and other pain medications diluted in a saline solution. He was slipping in and out of consciousness as he spoke, but his story was something to behold. "Jeff, you still there? Tommy, is my boy here?"

"I'm here, Dad." I got up and moved closer to the sofa he was reclined across.

My father's hand was shifting around, looking for something to focus on. "Your

mother forced me to make a clean break."

"From Carlos, right?" I asked, recalling my mother's accusation of multiple partners.

"She even wanted me to quit my job, so I'd never see him again. Luckily this was the era of payphones. You know what a payphone is?"

"Yes, payphones still exist," I said as I placed my hand atop of his.

"Not outside of prison," my father muttered.

"And VA hospitals," I replied with a shrug.

"Like I said, prisons." My father chuckled as he stretched his back, glancing in the direction of his IV bag, "I like to think what happened next was fate."

I wanted to ask why he just happened to look towards the sunlight. Could he feel the warmth? Or was there something else, something meant only for him?

"The day your mother went into labor I called Carlos, just to tell him where I was. Then I shut off my phone and stayed by your mother's side." He closed his eyes, smiling wide as the cat from Alice in wonderland. "When I held you in my arms, I felt a pure love, it was a connection to something so powerful." My father's voice trailed off. "...a feeling I would spend the rest of my life chasing."

"What happened to Carlos?"

"Overdose," he said in a breath, "died in a room just three floors up."

"Oh." I didn't know what to make of that: somehow my father's lover had died in the same hospital where I was born?

"Carlos was into a lot of bad shit; depression, loneliness, his life was about working to please his family. He wanted to be an artist, a painter, but he always said he'd settle for being a hairdresser. Anything with a little more passion than manual labor." My father's eyes closed as his breathing became slow. "He wanted to stay with me."

"Dad?" I could feel him squeezing my hand.

"I married your mother in a Vegas chapel. She wore a fifty-dollar dress." His eyes opened and closed, blinking slowly as if in a trance.

I moved my hand to his chest, over his heart. "Dad, are you ok?"