After slathering the lube all over his shaft, he eased down and slipped his firm length between Marshall's cheeks. The head of his erection teased at the warm opening. Marshall hissed and let out a breathy "Oh God", prompting Erik to push a little harder.
As always, Marshall felt amazing and welcomed everything Erik had to give, as if it were meant for only him. His body spread-eagle on the soft, silken sheets of his five-star hotel, Marshall arched his back, thrusting his ass in the air as Erik fell into rhythm.
Erik's bare chest pressed against Marshall's back, hips wedged between his thighs. Keeping his arms around his lover's waist, he thrust inside and pulled back slowly. His sac tightened, cock pulsing as the pressure became stronger.
Marshall's excited moans rumbled through his body and—though it might have been his imagination—Erik swore he felt the tingle against his lips. Moments like this, with Marshall beneath him while he made love to him, it made the idea of leaving Los Angeles even more appealing than it might've been before. To be in Marshall's arms every night, to wake up beside him again, it would be a dream come true. Hell, the offer alone was more than he could've dreamed of.
"That's it, baby," Marshall rasped.
Erik's hips rolled again and again. He picked up speed, thrust a little deeper. His fingers splayed over Marshall's pec, fingers toying with the man's hardened nipple. He kissed the back of Marshall's neck. Marshall tilted his head forward and Erik laved the sensitive skin with his soft tongue.
"I love you so much," Marshall cried.
"I love you too," Erik panted as his erection throbbed harder. "Oh God," he cried out. "Oh, God!"
"That's it, baby. Come for me," Marshall begged with the same airy voice.
And that was all it took. Erik came hard—toe-curling hard. He gripped Marshall's hip as he growled his pleasure into the air, but he wasn't finished because he hadn't shown Marshall the same exquisite, thunderous pleasure.
Pulling out of Marshall's warm body, the hand that gripped his lover's hip gave a hard shove and Marshall rolled onto his back. Erik lowered his head, took the pleading, aroused cock into his mouth. He licked away the silky drop teetering on the tip of Marshall's erection, then ran his tongue up and down the shaft. His hand massaged Marshall's sac and Erik's tongue threaded over the sensitive ridge of that beautiful, hardened member.
Marshall arched, pressing himself deeper into Erik's mouth. His eyes rolled back and he bit down on his bottom lip. The moan that filled the air sounded as if it had started in Marshall's groin, twisting and turning up his body until it found an escape through the curve of his plump lips.
"Erik, I'm close," he rasped, but Erik already knew. He felt it in the pulsing of Marshall's shaft, in the tightening of his sac. His head bobbed faster. His tongue stroked harder. "Holy shit!" Marshall screamed out as he filled Erik's mouth with hot, bitter cum.
Erik swallowed down his lover's release. The softened cock slipped out of his mouth and he laid his head against Marshall's thigh. He was absolutely spent, and now, hints of sunlight spilled through the dark curtains. He hadn't had the first wink of sleep, but it had been completely worth it. To pleasure Marshall the way he had, to see the pure felicity on his lover's face, in his slightly parted lips and fluttering eyes, the sacrifice had been completely and totally worth it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Less than forty-eight hours had passed. Angel watched the clock tick away the minutes and it'd been like watching grass grow. In twenty-two minutes, he could mark another day away, but it hadn't been an easy one. In fact, it'd been a hard, kick-in-the-balls sort of day with nothing but the walls to keep him company, nothing but the voices in his head to talk to. His body felt like one used and abused, vapid waste of space.
Already, he hated every motherfucker in that God-forsaken hospital, clinic, rehab center… whatever they wanted to call it. They were all out to make him crazy, he just knew it. Probably laughed behind his back while he suffered. No one wanted to help him. No one wanted to ease his suffering.
And why the hell hadn't Dr Daniels been by to see him yet?
He lay in that lonely, uncomfortable twin bed, sweating and swearing to God the walls were closing in tighter around him. He knotted his fingers in his spiky black hair and pulled hard at the matted sprigs as he fought the urge to scream out or cry. Shivers ran down his spine. This place was almost scarier than the worst of the fleabag motels he'd stayed in.
He hadn't slept since he'd arrived. Oh, he'd tried closing his eyes, but the shit he'd seen behind his lids had been far worse than the four threatening off-white walls. He wasn't going to survive ninety days in this place. No way.
"Luke?" The blonde nurse who'd been taking care of him called from the door.
"Don't fucking call me that!" he growled, jerking his head up from the pillow. "My name is Angel!"
"Sorry, Angel," she said. "Can I come in?"
"What do you want?"
"It's time for your meds, and trust me, you want what I have in this cup."
She held a little paper cup of green liquid in her tiny hand. Angel's nose curled. The shit looked like something from a bio-chemical spill, like it would make an arm grow out of his forehead.
"What is that?" he asked, nodding at the cup.
"Liquid methadone. It's a small dose. For the heroin withdrawals."
Angel reached his trembling hand out to take the cup, but she didn't give it to him. It stayed locked in the safety of her calm fingers because she obviously didn't trust his ability to keep the little piece of paper in his hand.
"Want me to do it for you?" she asked, giving him a soft, understanding smile.
Shamed, he lowered his head and nodded. "Please."
The nurse lifted the cup to his lips. Her other hand rested on the back of his neck. Together, he tilted his head and she tilted the cup. The green goo rolled down his tongue and the taste of it curled his features. His eyelids clenched and he shook his head.
"That shit's nasty."
"I know, but you're going to feel much better in a few minutes." Giving him a reassuring grin, she patted his shoulder. "Dr Daniels should be in here to see you soon."
"About damn time."
"It's standard for the shrinks to wait a day or so before harassing you guys. We do all the medical stuff up front. They come in later to play around with your brain." The corner of her lip curled into a half smile. "Look, sweetie. Nothing about this is going to be easy for you. You can play the tough guy all you want, but that strength would be better used for fighting your urges and sticking this out. My job is to do the best I can for you, and I promise, I will. You just have to let me help you. You have to let Dr Daniels help you, okay?"
Angel sunk back down in the bed, curled his one and only pillow under his head and cradled it to the side of his face. He could already feel his eyes getting heavy. The nurse pulled the blanket up to his chin then reached over and dimmed the bedside lamp. She left him alone, content… or rather, high enough that he wouldn't know the difference.
* * * *
Erik saw it coming, he really did. But he really couldn't react in time to stop it. He looked back down at his file, walking the hall while jotting a quick note for the nurses. Roni was doing the exact same thing. With her head down and her pen scribbling notes in Angel's chart, she started in Erik's direction. The path was wide enough for the two of them, and keeping with proper hallway traffic etiquette, Roni should've kept to the left, but she didn't. And with a preoccupied doctor roaming around, the two were a recipe for disaster. They walked right into each other, causing Roni to fall flat on her butt.
"Oh God, Roni, I'm sorry," Erik said with a gasp as he kneeled down to help her up. Her file had emptied, scattering scribbled pages all over the floor. "Please, let me."
He started picking up the papers that had flown across the linoleum when Roni reached out and touched his forearm.
"Erik, I can get this. You have a patient you've been avoiding."
With a sigh,
he sat back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know I do."
"Is there a problem?"
"Not really. It's probably all in my head."
"Need to talk about it?"
"Not yet. But if I do, I'll be sure to find you," he said with a soft smile.
"Good." Roni removed her hand from Erik's arm and resumed collecting her papers. Without looking up at him, she said, "Go see your patient now, Dr Daniels. I think he needs a moment of your time."
Erik rose to his feet, looked down the hall toward Angel's door then back to Roni kneeling down on the floor. "You're probably right. Thanks, Roni."
"Anytime, Erik." She smiled up at him.
With more than a hint of hesitation, he walked down the hall to Angel's door. Erik's palm pressed against the cold, pale surface. He'd talked to patients a million times before, but this wasn't just any patient. This wasn't some nameless, faceless stranger. He'd spent time with this kid and his partner. He'd gotten to know them and knew what would be on the line if he failed.
He lightly rapped his knuckles against the door. Angel's hoarse, groggy voice called out for him to come in and Erik cracked the door. The room was dark. Florescent lights could be hell on unready eyes and he didn't want to be too invasive, not on their first official visit, so he left the lights just as he'd found them. "It's Dr Daniels," he said from the hall.
* * * *
Angel attempted to sit up in the bed, but the room started to spin and his stomach began doing back flips.
"Yeah?" Angel said as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
"How are you hanging in there?" Erik asked as he pulled a chair closer to Angel's bed. "Is the methadone helping any?"
"Feels like it," Angel croaked. He scrubbed both hands over his face. "I feel fucking high. Isn't that wrong? I mean, I'm not supposed to be getting high, right?"
"No, you're not, but we do want to ease your suffering, help you come down as much as we can without risking relapse."
"Whatever, Doc. At least I'm not freaking out like I was earlier."
"Sorry about that. Policy is to watch new patients for twenty-four hours before giving out the meds." Dr Daniels laid the file in his lap and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, do you want to talk about Jon?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
Erik's brow arched. "There isn't?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"The truth? Whatever is on your mind? Why did you tell him to leave and not come back?"
"Look, Doc, you don't know Jon. He's sweet—too sweet. He doesn't need to spend every waking moment worrying about me, and that's what he's been doing for months now. I want him to move on with his life, find someone who deserves a guy as good as him. I'm not that guy."
"What if you are?"
"I'm not."
"That's not for you to decide. If he loves you and you love him—"
"I don't," Angel bit out, interrupting him. "I mean, I do, but not like that. He's my best friend and he'll always be my best friend… I hope." He combed his fingers over his scalp, and turned his head to face the doctor. "I just want him to be happy, no matter what happens to me."
"I suppose that's admirable, or maybe it's cowardly."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Do you think you were being a coward?"
"I think I don't want to talk about it right now." Angel glared.
Erik pressed his palm to the air.
"Fair enough." He sat back, relaxing slightly. "So, why heroin? What pushed you toward drugs?"
"What drove you to drink?"
"This isn't about me."
"Why? You're no better than me, right?"
Dr Daniels stiffened, shoulders squaring. "I would say I'm not, but I kicked my addiction. Now, are you brave enough to do the same? Are you strong enough to overcome the smack or do you want it to keep controlling you?"
Angel thought about the past forty-eight hours: the shaking and sweats, the paranoia and loneliness. He thought about how he'd been living and how he wanted to live. He knew the worst was yet to come and honestly, the idea of being on the streets seemed a lot less frightening.
He bit down on his bottom lip, casting his eyes away from the doctor. Could he overcome his addiction? Did he have the strength?
When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded unsure, even to his own ears, and in a broken whisper, he finally said, "I don't know."
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Look," Erik said as he stood from the chair. Angel had a hard dose of tough love coming his way and he didn't even know it. "You're not going to waste my time and you're not going to take away from my other patients, so you can have one of the nurses call for me when you decide you're ready to actually talk."
He started for the door, hoping Angel would call him back, hoping whatever had pushed Angel down the dark and dangerous road of substance abuse would come out. He never expected it to be blurted at him.
"'It's an abomination, Luke.' That's what my dad said when I told him I was gay." Angel sat up in the bed, his back pressed against the pillow, arms crossed over his chest. Erik slowly turned, went back to the chair, and sat down facing Angel's bed. The kid looked up at the ceiling and Erik could see redness beginning to fill his deep, brown eyes.
"He sounded so damn calm," Angel began again. "But God, I could tell how pissed off he was by the way he glared at me. Had I given a shit what Dad thought, I wouldn't have said anything about it. I would've ridden it out then moved away."
"But you wanted to hurt him?"
"No. Well, maybe, but you don't understand. That conservative jackass has the moral fortitude of a ground slug. He slung a Bible around and quoted scripture with the best of them, just like the other hypocrites they forced me to pray with every Sunday. 'Judge none,' they said. 'God loves all his children,' until those beloved children chose to come out of the closet and tell the world the opposite sex didn't do it for them. Those once precious, beloved children of God were now an abomination, a sin, and God didn't have room for sinners. What kind of message is that for a kid who just realized his sexual preference didn't fit the scriptures, didn't fit in with everything he'd ever been taught was right?"
"So all of this is about religion? Sounds like you just wanted to rebel against him."
"No. Not all of it. I told him to go to hell. He raised his hand in the air and brought it down hard enough to knock me on my ass. My sister just cried and my mother didn't do shit to help me. So I left. I ran away from home and away from his intolerance."
"Why heroin, Angel? What made you start using?"
"Do you know how expensive it is to get from Maine to LA?"
Erik shook his head.
"More money than a runaway can get after pissing off the person who controls his money. I barely made it out of New England. I started having sex for money. Anyone who wanted it, man or woman, I did it. Fucking made me miserable. I got to the point where I couldn't even close my eyes without seeing every disgusting thing I'd done."
"So getting high made you forget?"
Angel nodded.
Erik stared silently for a long moment. He'd heard that very same story a few times before. Not necessarily the coming out part, but the abusive parents and running away from home. This, however, was the first time Erik wanted to pull a patient into his arms and hold him until all the bad stuff faded away. He wanted to stay by Angel's side and ride through the detox and the revelations with the kid so Angel wouldn't have to suffer alone.
Erik had to get out of that room. If he stayed there a moment longer, he might not leave.
Standing from the chair, he gathered the file and tucked it under one arm. He could feel Angel's eyes following his every movement. Erik could feel them, as if the kid's stare could sear his flesh.
He patted Angel's lower leg and said, "Get some rest. Let the meds do their magic. We'll talk again soon, I promise."
Heading toward the doctors' lounge, Erik thought he would
hide out in there for a little while. Everything about Angel overwhelmed him and he just needed a moment to find his focus again. He couldn't deny that he had an unwavering need to take care of the kid, and not just as a doctor would their patient, but more as a friend. That gray line came back to haunt him again, that mythical wall of ethics he'd been teetering on since he'd met Jon and Angel. If it kept up, he'd have no choice but to hand Angel off to another doctor, and that was the last thing Erik wanted to do.
He sat down at the table in the center of the doctors' lounge. The pink Formica veneer was sticky with God only knew what. The moment Erik's palm touched the surface, his stomach tied in knots and his face curled in disgust. People could be such slobs.
The florescent light overhead began to give him a headache, and if it wasn't for having to write out his notes in Angel's file, he might've said "Screw it" and escaped the entire bleak world of West Clinic for an hour or so.
Pen in one hand, his forehead propped against his other, he stared down at the file as he tried to piece together something clinical and logical, intelligent, and educated. He had just put the pen to paper when his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. When he saw the name on the screen, his heart beat a little harder, a smile stretched his lips, and the dark, dreary world of West Clinic seemed a little brighter.
"Hey you," Erik said with a grin as he held the phone to his ear.
"You're in a good mood," Marshall responded.
"No. Just glad to hear your voice. What's up?"
"I want to meet you for lunch. I have to head back to San Francisco tonight, but I didn't want to leave town without seeing you first."
"It's time for you to go already?"
"I'm afraid so, baby." There was a long pause, like Marshall wanted Erik to say he would go with him or maybe beg him to stay. When Erik remained silent, Marshall continued. "So meet me for lunch, will you?"
"Of course, but can we meet on this side of town? We'll get to see each other longer. There's a great hibachi grill just around the corner from the clinic. I can text the address to you. Want to meet me there?"
Patient Privilege Page 9
