There was a warm hand in his, but it wasn’t his mom’s. The skin was familiar, though. He smiled before he even opened his eyes as he ran his thumb over the long fingers curling around his. The room was quiet and as long as he stayed still, the pain in his torso remained a distant ache. Fabric rustled beside him, and then a thumb was stroking over his fingers as well.
“You awake?” Ollie’s whispered voice sounded sleep rough, and Dagen opened his eyes to look at the man sitting at his bedside. He looked tired. There were wrinkles in his shirt and dark circles under his eyes, made even more prominent from the shadows cast by the beam of bright white light falling into the room from the crack in the door.
“What time is it?”
Ollie picked up his phone from where it was laying on the rolling table beside him and squinted at the screen. “Two thirty. In the AM, obviously.” He gave a little chuckle, and set his phone back down. “Do you need anything?”
Dagen squeezed his hand, a self-deprecating chuckle of his own breaking free. “I need to pee.”
Ollie nodded and immediately stood, moving the chair and table out of the way. Dagen used his good hand to raise the head of the bed until he was sitting upright and could just swing his legs around to the floor without having to pull himself up.
“Should I get a nurse?”
“No, I think I’m okay. Um, I might need a little help with my shorts, though.”
Ollie winked at him. “I think I can manage that.”
Dagen’s feet found the floor, and a shiver went through him at the chill. He braced his right hand on the bed and pushed himself to his feet, with only a minor wince. A small wave of dizziness made his head spin, and Ollie pressed a hand to his back and gripped his elbow to steady him.
“Sure you’re okay?”
He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slow. The dizziness faded as he acclimated to being upright, and he gave a tiny nod. “Yeah, just took a second to adjust.” Dagen moved forward, one cautious step at a time. The cool tiles beneath his bare feet welcome after the head rush left a sheen of sweat forming at his hairline and upper lip. Ollie stayed right with him, one hand on his elbow and the other resting on his lower back.
The bathroom light was a harsh glare, and Dagen blinked as his eyes adjusted. Ollie pushed the door closed behind them and asked, “Do you want to sit down? Will that make it easier?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed at the waistband of his shorts with his right hand, and Ollie stepped behind him to push the left side down as well. “I think I can stand,” Dagen said, his hand moving to aim himself at the toilet before he swayed forward and released himself to brace a hand against the wall.
“Easy, and here,” Ollie reached around him to grab a plastic hand-held urinal from its perch on the back of the toilet. “I think you’re supposed to pee in this.” Then he carefully slipped his other arm around Dagen’s waist as well, and wrapped his hand around Dagen’s soft penis, placing him in the urinal’s opening.
Heat swarmed Dagen’s body, but not for the reasons that usually accompanied Ollie’s touch. He tried to breathe and focus. Just let it happen, but after a minute of awkward silence, he sighed, while the flush continued to creep over his body.
“Stop it,” Ollie whispered against his back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Just let go, babe.”
Dagen huffed, his embarrassment coloring his words. “It’s not exactly easy.” Their relationship had already been on a fast track, Dagen knew that, but this was like warp speed ahead. The lust haze they’d spent the previous week in had been wonderful as they’d explored and lavished each other’s bodies. But this? This was a whole other level of vulnerable.
“If it were me, would you want me to be embarrassed?”
“No,” Dagen’s answer was immediate, despite those very same feelings swirling inside him now. If their roles were reversed, Dagen wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever Ollie needed and wouldn’t for a moment let him feel bad about it. With that thought in mind, he blew out a big breath and filled the urinal to the halfway mark. When he finished, Ollie set the urinal back in its spot for the nurse to record the amount, then tucked Dagen away as he helped him pull up his shorts before washing his hands and opening the door.
“Come on.” He pressed a kiss to Dagen’s shoulder. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
They'd only made it half-way back when a dark-haired nurse swept into the room and read them the riot act for not calling for help.
"Sorry," Dagen said, looking sheepish as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, and the middle-aged woman softened.
"Just call from now on, okay? A member of hospital staff needs to be with you until you're a bit steadier on your feet."
Dagen nodded his ascent and sat quietly while she checked all his vitals. He flexed his right hand, the intrusion of the IV port still in his arm a minor ache to that of his shoulder. They'd unhooked him from fluids only a few hours ago but had left the port as a precaution. He was told if his condition stayed the same it would come out in the morning, and he was so ready. He wanted to go home. Wanted to see Ollie sprawled out in their bed, sleeping peacefully, instead of across a hospital room looking like death warmed over. A flash of Ollie on his knees, a gun pressed to his head, and fear in his eyes shot through Dagen's mind, and the heart monitor she'd slipped over his finger beeped at the sudden spike in his pulse.
"You doing okay, Dagen?" his nurse asked, searching his face for signs of distress.
"Yeah, just tired," he replied. He could feel Ollie's eyes on him, and he turned his head to give his boyfriend what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The way Ollie's eyes narrowed told him he wasn't successful.
"Ok. Let's get you laid back down," the nurse started, but Dagen stopped her.
"Actually, can I sit here for a minute? I'm fine and I promise to lay back soon."
She looked at him for only a moment, eyes darting to Ollie, then returning to his with a little smile. "Only for a few minutes. And nothing to get your heart rate up. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, color coming back to his cheeks while he watched her head through the door, closing it behind her.
Ollie was in front of him before it clicked shut, moving in close enough between Dagen's spread knees that he was able to lean forward and rest his forehead against Ollie's chest while he wrapped his good arm around his hips. Sure fingers carded through his hair and slid down to knead the muscles of Dagen's neck and right shoulder. The gentle pressure released some of the tension he'd been carrying, and even though it pulled slightly at the wound on his left side, it felt wonderful.
"I can't believe I almost lost you." Dagen's voice hitched as he clutched Ollie tighter, breathing in the scent of him. With his mind clearing from the fog of surgery and pain medication, images of the previous night's events, like the one he'd just experienced, kept filtering in. It felt like a nightmare, and Dagen was still having trouble reconciling the fact that it had all really happened.
Ollie's fingers twitched on the back of his neck. "Me? Dagen, y-you got shot." Ollie pulled back and met his eyes. Tear tracks streaked his beautiful face, and Dagen brought his hand up to cup his cheek, thumb sweeping under Ollie's eye. "You took a bullet for me." He shook his head, a little sob breaking free. "Why did you do that?"
Dagen's eyes welled up too, and he shook his head. He almost said it. To hell with convention and timing, but he held himself back. What had happened was a hell of an extenuating circumstance, but there was still that fear niggling in the back of his brain that he could fuck this up. Get ahead of himself. Move too fast and scare Ollie off. He'd just survived a bullet, and yet the thought of ruining what he could feel building between them sent a lance of pain through him like none he'd ever known. Ollie's warm hands cupped his face, thumbs wiping a couple stray tears away.
"Because sometimes you need people to take care of you, and...I just couldn't let you get hurt. He doesn’t get to hurt you anymore, Ollie," Dagen s
aid, voice raspy.
The dark brown of Ollie's eyes melted to chocolate pools. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Dagen's in a wet kiss. Dagen whimpered against him and opened his mouth. Ollie's tongue swept in to slide against his in a dance of velvet heat before he pulled back and pressed gentle kisses to Dagen's nose and forehead, then rested his own against it. "Can't get your heart rate up, remember?"
Dagen nodded, relishing the warm cloud of Ollie's breath mixing with his own. "Lay down with me?"
"Do you think we'll both fit?" Ollie chuckled, wiping at his eyes again.
Dagen pretended to contemplate the bed. "It'll be tight. We may have to snuggle."
Drawing in a shaky breath, Ollie said, "Well, if we must."
It took a moment, but Dagen got himself laid back and in as comfortable a position as he could hope for. Ollie kicked off his shoes and climbed up beside him. He had to lay on his side with his arm up under his head, and the length of him pressed against Dagen's right side. Once they were settled, Ollie reached for Dagen's right hand and rested their twined fingers on Dagen's hip before kissing his shoulder.
Just before he drifted off, Ollie's lips moved, forming words where they were still pressed to Dagen's skin. He couldn't hear what Ollie said, as exhaustion and pain pulled him under, but Dagen got the feeling that even if he hadn't been able to say the three words he’d wanted to earlier, that Ollie had heard them anyway.
A couple months later…
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Ollie said, eyeing the smoothie Dagen had handed him. “It’s green. Why is it green?” Cautiously, he lifted the lid and sniffed. “Dude, are there vegetables and shit in here?”
Rolling his eyes, Dagen pressed the lid back down. “Just drink it. It’s good for you.”
They’d fallen into a routine over the last couple of months since they’d gotten together. Going from roommates to lovers hadn’t actually altered their daily habits all that much—other than in the bedroom. Ollie was still hopeless in the kitchen, and Dagen was still always trying to feed him.
“Why can’t you make me smoothies with chocolate? Peanut butter? I wouldn’t say no to salted caramel, you know.” Gingerly, he stuck the straw between his lips and braced himself as the first sip hit his tongue.
Dagen huffed. His large frame was bent over the kitchen sink rinsing the blender. “I’m so sorry that I love you and want you to be healthy.”
Ollie’s mouth fell open. He watched Dagen go tense and slowly straighten up, placing the blender in the drainer and reaching for a towel to dry his hands. They’d been dancing around it. Those three words. Saying it in so many ways without ever actually saying it at all.
When Dagen turned to him, Ollie could see the remnants of insecurity there, a vulnerability that people so often assumed someone of Dagen’s stature would somehow be immune to.
“Could you say that one more time?” Ollie lifted one corner of his mouth. “I might need a little extra confirmation since it’s coming from the dude trying to mask spinach with pineapple.”
Dagen’s eyes narrowed as he advanced, pulling the smoothie out of Ollie’s hand and backing him right up against the counter. He placed the cup on the hard surface and braced his hands on either side of Ollie, leaning down so that they were eye to eye. “I love you.”
Ollie smiled, lifting his hands to card his fingers into Dagen’s beard, getting enough grip to pull his man the last couple inches that separated them. “I love you too,” he whispered before he sealed their mouths together.
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Also by Michelle Frost
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Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 48
