“Yes, and only I can give you me,” he says between ragged breaths, and I lean my face closer to capture his mouth with mine, our tongues dancing to the same tune as our gliding bodies.
He constricts around me, his ass heaven on my fucking cock, and I pulse inside him, my orgasm hitting me so hard I think I might be the one slipping into a coma instead. He’s still rubbing against me, his ass hitting my thighs, and I palm his erection, the catheter flapping around causing him to convulse. His cheeks turn a deeper pink, and his eyes glaze over with tears springing into them. One light touch to where the tube meets his slit and he’s shooting his load.
I collapse onto him, my sweaty skin pressing to his, and I kiss the side of his face.
“Can you call me that name only meant for me while you say those words only meant for me too.”
I laugh, kissing him again, and nod. “I love you, my favorite patient. My bestest, sweetest, most beautiful convalescent.”
He lets out a lazy laugh, wiggling his nose and repositioning his catheter. “I need to be cleaned again. All that cum shouldn’t mix with my urine.”
It’s the only response I need. Better than “I love you” back, and right when I think it’s all I’ll get, he latches onto my arm before I can get up.
“I love you too, Doc. I love Sam too. And I can tell you something new I know about both.”
“What’s that, lovely?”
“That you’re allowing yourself to be more vulnerable around me each and every day. You almost fell asleep before me this time.”
He’s right, and that has been something I made sure I never did with anyone because I’ve seen how much someone can get away with when another is asleep and I’m not as okay with the unknown as Riley is. At least I wasn’t, and right now, as he clings to me some more being so damn needy, I think I could follow him anywhere, whether it’s eyes wide open or eyes closed.
Epilogue
Riley
Six months later
“I wrote to Brick weeks ago and haven’t heard anything back,” I say, hanging my cane on the chair after sitting at the table.
“Yeah, and you probably won’t. He’s in the clinic again. My friend left other inmates a tip that he was the one stealing their drugs and they beat him until he passed out. They also found said drugs in his system and think he could use regular checkups once he’s up and about again.”
“He hates needles and swallowing pills. Always has.” I stretch out a leg, rubbing my dislocated hip that I’m scheduled to have surgery on tomorrow.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think he’ll learn to appreciate both once Turner shows him that everything could be a lot worse.”
“Your friend sure has a lot of leeway in there.” I push at my broccoli, wrinkling my nose, and when Sam looks at me, I smile, stabbing at it with my fork.
“He has a lot of dirt on most of the security guards and the warden,” he responds, scooting closer to me. On his days off, he stays as close to me as he possibly can, barely ever leaving my side. When he leaves, he restrains me in the bed and gives me something that will knock me out all day, to keep me from tripping over everything and worsening the already poor condition of my hip. I don’t only fall while he’s around, I do it when he’s gone too, sometimes forgetting to lift my feet at the right time. Took a spill down the basement stairs three days ago, missing a step while not paying attention.
We’re becoming such a great patient-doctor team. If I don’t feel like he’s doing his best to keep me needing round the clock care, I meet him halfway, because it doesn’t feel right otherwise. I need to be here. I need to be with him. I need to always be sick. I know out there I won’t survive. I don’t want to go back to before. I don’t want to rob houses or wait tables or worry about whether another guy like Stephen will run out on me because I’m not enough.
Sam wants me. He actually wants me. He wakes up every morning, kissing and holding me while telling me so. He remembered my birthday, and I don’t even know how he found out when it was since I hadn’t told him yet. He figured it out on his own because he tries with me, and I owe it to him to try back. And damn, I want him too. I don’t always know what he’s up to, or if he’ll ever go too far, but I like the idea of thinking he might, even though it sometimes keeps me up at night with my eyes on the window and doors around us.
I crack a smile, finally saying, “Well, if Brick is busy, then he’s busy. He’ll get back to me when he can.” Brick loves his independence and knowing he can do more for himself than anyone else. Knowing he doesn’t need anyone else. I was a choice, not a necessity, and I’m sure he thought the same of Stephen.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“That means he’s too busy, and I think I prefer that to him finding time to read what I sent.”
“What was it?”
“Nothing much. I thanked him. Said he saved me from wasting more time with Stephen and how it wasn’t my steak dinner he enjoyed that night after all. Mine was way better, and it wasn’t originally meant for someone else like his was. I didn’t have to take anything away from anyone then and I don’t have to now.” I only had to look at the right table. It’s all I’m allowed to see now, so it makes it more feasible. I sit higher in my chair, holding my meat in place with my fork as I cut into the center.
“No, no, you don’t. And I think when he finally is able to read that letter, he’ll be in a place where he’ll fully understand.”
“Only time will tell.”
“And he has plenty of that where he is.”
