Learning-to-Feel (13 page)

His grip on my left hip tightened, and he grunted. I felt his breath on my shoulder. His lips kissed, and his tongue tasted my skin. He pulled his finger out, only to sink two more back in, and he bites my shoulder. He was slow and careful, sliding into me, stretching me, the most delicious burn setting my blood on fire.

His kisses became hurried and he used his teeth to nip at my skin, and he started to push his fingers harder inside me. I gripped the headboard and arched back into him, for him, and his fingers twisted inside me. He touched something, something that detonated deep within me.

"Fuck!" I cried.

And he did it again.

"Oh, fuck!" My body convulsed at his touch. "Trent, oh my God…"

"Yeah, baby," he groaned as his fingers still fucked me, pressing right where it sparked pure pleasure. "Right there?" he asked.

"Fuck, yes," I yelled.

"Pump your cock," he rasped out.

I was quick to obey, my fingers wrapped blindly around my length. I looked down at my dick and saw it was purple and swollen. When Trent brushed my prostate again, my cock lurched in my hand.

He did it again and again, and I pumped my fist hard, feeling pleasure in every cell of my body. My back stretched completely, arcing, pushing my dick toward the bed. His fingers still fucked me, and my orgasm erupted from deep within, as come poured from my cock onto the towel beneath me.

Painless fire ripped across my body as my pleasure consumed
me. S
haking and shuddering, I fell forward onto my arms. Then his fingers were gone from my ass, but I could feel his rock hard cock sliding between my ass cheeks
.
He was sliding his cock through the lube-slicked flesh of my ass. Both of his hands gripped my hips, and he grunted in time with his thrust, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The room was still spinning, I was completely spent, but I felt his fingers dig into me, and he flexed against me as he came. I felt his come splash hot onto my back, and he was almost growling as his orgasm rocketed through him.

Finally, he collapsed on top of me and pressed the weight of his spent body against me. He was mumbling words I couldn’t hear, and he was kissing the sweat off my skin between his ragged breaths.

He rolled me onto my side and pulled the towel out from under me. He cleaned me up, my front and then my back, my ass. Then he wiped himself with the towel, threw it to the floor and collapsed back onto the bed.

He spooned me this time, wrapping his arms around me. I tried to stay awake. I wanted to talk to him…I
needed
to talk to him, about whatever-the-fuck-this-was, what he was starting to mean to me, but sleep took me.

I dreamt of him instead.

* * * *

It was daylight. I was still in bed, and I was so fucking comfortable. Trent was wrapped around me, and he’s hot and heavy. I didn’t want to move, ever. I stayed like that, wondering how on Earth I could broach the subject of defining what this means to him without scaring him off. I knew our time together was limited, and I didn’t want to shorten any time I had with him by making him want to leave.

So I resigned myself to say nothing and just make the most of what time I did have with him.

Bentley came into the room and looked at me, curiously. He made a whining noise, and I realized he must need to pee. Grumbling, I unfolded Trent from me and threw back the covers, pulled on some pants and went downstairs to let him outside.

I turned the coffee machine on and decided against going for a run today. I had a better idea.

I ran back upstairs and slid back into bed with Trent. He grinned, and I knew he was awake. "Want some breakfast?"

"Mmmm," he hummed his agreement.

So I slapped his ass. "Then get up. We're going out."

He groaned. "Coffee first."

"Machine's on. I’m having a shower," I told him, and he quirked an eyebrow. Getting off the bed, I chuckled and told him he could make me a coffee while I jerked off in the shower, and he threw a pillow at me.

He was behind me before I even turned the taps on.

After soapy hand jobs in the shower, body washing and languid kisses, we dried off and got dressed.

It was like a new life for me, like I’d been walking around, living in this body, this skin, but I wasn't really living at all.

It wasn’t just a sexual awakening…it was
living...

"So, breakfast?" Trent's voice startled me.

"Oh, sorry. I was a million miles away. So, breakfast… so we can hit the markets, if you like? We can take Bentley, too."

I told him we should pack, as we were heading back to Belfast after lunch, so it made sense not to come back here. He agreed, and we packed our bags, closed up the apartment, loaded our stuff into my car and headed into the city.

We strolled through the market, drank coffee and ate a breakfast of bagels and fruit. I bought some gourmet pooch treats, and Trent rolled his eyes. "You're spoiling my dog," he told me for the fiftieth time.

I grinned. "He doesn’t mind," I told him. Trent laughed and shook his head at me.

We strolled the alleys, stopping and looking as we pleased. Trent bought a few mementos while I waited with Bentley, and when he walked back to us, the first thing I noticed was that his jaw was tight, and he looked pissed.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

His tone was
curt.
"Nothing, let's just go."

I looked around, back toward the store he’d just left and found a group of young guys, laughing and looking in our direction. "Did they say something to you?" I asked him.

"Nothing I haven't been called before," he replied. "Come on, let's go."

I was stunned, quite frankly, and followed him robotically. We walked back the way we came, and it wasn’t until we were in the car and driving away that Trent seemed to relax.

"Just some small-minded little fuckwits," he said. Then he sighed. "It just sucks. We've had the best weekend, and then some little fuckers ruin it…"

"I’m sorry," I told him. I didn’t know what else to say.

"Don’t you
ever
apologize," he spat out, and I could see he was still livid. "You've got
nothing
to be sorry for."

"I’m sorry they upset you."

"And it doesn't upset you?" he cried. "Jesus, Nathan! How can it
not
piss you off when some fucking 15 year old punk calls you a faggot and a butt puncher?" He took a deep breath to calm himself. "They've got no fucking right to judge us."

"Trent, I’ve been a doctor in Emergency for two years," I told him. "I’ve seen every demographic of society and been accused of prejudice by every one. The families of people whose lives I'd just saved either abuse me for racism, discrimination, favoritism and everything in between, or they thank me for it."

He stared at me and remained quiet, waiting for me to continue. "What I’m saying is, yes it bothers me. No, they have no right to judge. But I cannot control their behavior. I can only control my reaction."

"Just like that?" he asked sarcastically.

I smiled. "Yes, just like that."

"Well, Dr. Phil, that’s great in theory and all," he huffed, "but wait until you're called derogatory names just because you're gay."

He stared out the window, and I was left with a deafening silence…

…
because you're gay…

…because I’m gay…

Am I gay? Is that what I am? Well, I’m attracted to a man. He turns me on, so it would be a safe assumption that I’m not straight, but I’d been with women…so am I bi? Fucked if I knew. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it. I’d never thought of myself as
anything
…Trent's gay…and he just said
'because you're gay',
so he obviously thinks I am. Those punk kids at the market obviously thought I was…

"I’m sorry." His voice distracted me from my thoughts. "I didn't…I didn't mean to…" he sighed loudly. "Fuck, I’m sorry."

I nodded and concentrated on the traffic for a while. I could see Trent was still upset, though now it was with himself.

"I’m sorry," he said again. "I know you're trying to sort shit out, trying to figure out what this means to you…I know how hard that is." Now his voice was quiet, resigned, "I shouldn't have said that."

"It’s fine," I told him, though I hardly sounded convincing.

We didn’t speak until I stopped an hour later to let Bentley out so he didn't pee in my car. We took a few minutes in the fresh air, and I decided a change of topic was needed. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dani Peters asked me out."

He spun around to look at me. "She what?"

"True story. She asked me to go to the beach with her."

His eyes were tight, and his jaw was clenched. "What did you tell her?"

"What do you mean?" I asked with a laughed. "I told her no. I was going to Boston with you."

"Oh," he nodded his head. "If I had known, I could have arranged the Special Bus for you."

He pretended to make the dazed, diminished learning capabilities face, and I pushed his shoulder and told him to shut the fuck up. He laughed, and it made me laugh, and when we got back in the car, everything was okay again.

CHAPTER 14

The rest of the trip back to Belfast was uneventful. Since we'd laughed in the park, the mood between us was back to normal, playful and easy. The tension from Trent's encounter with the kids at the markets seemed to have dissipated, and we were all smiles as we pulled up at the house.

Bentley was happy to be home, jumping out of the car and quickly sniffing out what he might have missed in the last three days. We unpacked our bags and spent a peaceful, lazy afternoon, doing our separate things.

Trent went up to his attic. I presumed him to be painting. He could lose hours up there. I longed to see what he painted, seeing his inner thoughts on canvas. He was always quick to laugh off any hint at emotion, joking and using sexual innuendos to downplay the real him. And I wondered what his paintings might say about him...

I knew I could always sneak into the attic when he wasn't home to see for myself, but I wouldn't breach his trust like that. I quickly dismissed the idea, likening it to reading someone's journal.

I took Bentley for an afternoon run, thumping out our well worn track through the forest. When we arrived back at the house, Trent was still upstairs. Leaving him alone, I showered and changed, made and ate a salad for dinner and fed Bentley.

I sat on the sofa with my feet up, flicking through the text books I'd brought back with me from Boston, reading parts of interest. Bentley sat with me and snoozed with my hand gently stroking his fur.

It was late and realizing Trent wasn't coming down any time soon, I headed to bed. I laid awake for a while, recapping the weekend in my mind. I'd had the best time. Ever. The lines that defined
this
, whatever-the-hell-it-was, just sex and no strings attached, were starting to blur.

Oh, h
ell.
Who was I kidding? They'd long ago blurred.

Trent had stirred something in me. He'd awoken something that had been dormant, sleeping my entire life. When he left would I find that with someone else? Would I even want to?

I didn’t remember falling asleep. But I remembered being cold in my bed, in a fitful sleep, until Trent crawled into my bed sometime after three in the morning.

I remembered he was warm, and strong, and he smelled of paint. I remembered him wrapping himself around me, and I remembered him sighing when he held me.

I didn’t remember anything else, until my four-legged alarm clock woke me for his breakfast.

After my slave duties to a dog were fulfilled, I showered and went back into my room to get dressed for work. Trent was still sound asleep. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, his well defined arms were now wrapped around my pillow, and the muscles in his back curved perfectly.

I watched him for a moment. His breathing was
even, his lips slightly parted. H
is blond wavy hair sprawled across his face, and he was so fucking beautiful. And the fact he was in my bed... well, I liked that even more. Sighing, I left for work, wishing like hell I didn’t have to..

* * * *

Work was great. I loved the more personal interaction with patients. I was so used to the never-ending stream of nameless, faceless numbers that tore through Boston General Emergency.

Here, everyone was a mother, a father, a child, a neighbor or a friend to someone. It was personal here, and I didn’t just fix them up and send them through to another department. I saw the beginning, middle and end of all treatments here, and I felt a sense of completion.

Validated. I feel validated.

I was humming along to myself, filling out Mrs. Macpherson's papers, because she didn't see very well, when I heard a familiar voice. "Excuse me, Doctor?"

I looked up, and there Trent stood, grinning, holding sandwiches. "Can I help you?" I asked him, unable to keep from smiling.

He held up the bags of sandwiches. "Lunch."

I finished the file and told Mrs. Macpherson to wait while I sorted out her medication. I handed the script to a nurse to take to the pharmacy, and told her I would be in my office having lunch. Trent and I walked down the corridor, and he explained, "I had to come to town to pick up some things, and I was hungry, so thought I'd swing past to see if you've eaten... " his voice trailed away.

I stopped at my office, opened the door and walked in. "Thanks. I usually just grab something later, but it sounds good."

I took a seat behind my desk, and he looked around my office. "That’s a lot of books," he said, grinning. "Are you smart or something?"

I chuckled and shook my head at him. He opened up the white paper bags and said, "I got you chicken salad on rye. Wholegrain mustard, no mayo."

He knew what I liked, and I knew chances were, he’d ordered ham salad, extra mayo but no tomato. I smiled at him. "Thanks."

After a few bites, he asked if I liked it here. I told him I did and how even I was surprised at how
much
I liked it here.

"Don’t you miss the adrenalin, the excitement of a big city ER?"