by DJ Jamison
Trent stepped up to the table and picked up a scalpel for the first time in almost eight months.
***
Trent emerged from the OR with a familiar feeling of exhilaration. The medical staff he’d assisted took turns shaking his hand, thanking him sincerely when many of his former colleagues would have as soon stabbed him in the back as admit they’d needed a rescue.
The patient wasn’t out of the woods yet, but he was alive.
The flare of pride inside concerned him, though. He didn’t want to slide down the slippery slope that had turned him into an ambitious, self-centered asshole.
It was too soon to check in on the patient in recovery. It would take time for him to wake fully from the anesthesia, and he’d remain intubated initially until they could establish he was capable of breathing on his own and his oxygen levels were at appropriate levels. It’d been touch and go on the operating table a couple of times, and they’d had to revive him when his heart stopped at one point.
The amount of damage a stray gunshot could do was incredible, and this man would have a long recovery ahead.
But he had a chance to recover now.
Trent headed down the hall, not clear on where he was going. They were due to leave town and head for their next destination before the day was done. Now that the patient’s life was no longer in imminent danger — though far from out of the woods— they’d transfer him to Hays for continued critical care. Trent wouldn’t get to see this patient through after-care, but he knew they’d take good care of him. He’d seen the staff step up and push out of their comfort zone, ready to do whatever they could to save the patient’s life.
The elevator doors opened, and Xavier stepped out. “You were amazing!”
He caught Trent in a hug, surprising the hell out of him. He laughed uncomfortably. “You weren’t in there. How do you know?”
Xavier shook his head, beaming. “I was getting regular updates from one of the nurses. Besides, I didn’t need to see it. You saved that man’s life, Trent.”
For the first time, Trent was more embarrassed than flattered by the praise. He didn’t need credit for the surgery. He used his skills to do what needed to be done. Maybe he was finally turning a corner, living with purpose, in that he didn’t need that attention. Maybe he was living for himself, instead of what other people thought of him.
He didn’t know, and Xavier didn’t give him time to find the words for these revelations. He crossed the hall and peered through the door, then made an impatient noise.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Xavier turned and grabbed his hand, a mischievous smile on his face. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Trent would willingly follow Xavier anywhere, so he humored his ex-boyfriend as they headed down the hall, checking doors until Xavier found an empty room and pulled him inside. Trent looked around, taking in the empty hospital bed on the far side of the room, with the plastic chair for a visitor and a television mounted on the wall.
Before he could formulate a question about whyXavier had brought him here— and dreading a serious talk about their relationship because he was absolutely drained of brain power after surgery — his ex shoved him hard against the wall.
“I meant it. You were amazing to do that surgery on the fly like that,” Xavier said.
“Thanks, I guess?”
His heart kicked in his chest when Xavier sank to his knees and looked up at Trent. “You saved that man’s life, and it was all in a day’s work for you, huh?”
Xavier was kneeling in front of him, and he was supposed to hold a conversation? His dick was ready to talk; his mouth, not so much.
“Well, it was ... ah—”
Xavier pressed his hand against Trent’s cock, tracing out the shape of his hard-on through his pants. His dick had gone from intrigued to raring to go in 10 seconds flat. No one had ever turned him on like Xavier James.
“Hmm?” Xavier asked as he squeezed Trent’s aching dick.
“Uh ...”
Trent’s mind went blank as he watched Xavier unbutton his slacks and pull his cock out. His large hand wrapped around the base, and Trent went weak in the knees.
“Here?” he managed to ask.
He was thrown by this series of events. He’d been flirting with Xavier, subtly testing the water for days with little more than a kiss to show for it, and now Xavier was going to blow him in a hospital room simply because he’d done his job?
“It makes me so hot when you’re in doctor mode,” Xavier confessed.
He arched a brow. “Really?”
“You’re so confident and in control. You going into that surgery without a single fear, knowing exactly how to save someone like that? That’s a blessing, Trent.” He gave a saucy smile. “And we should appreciate our blessings in life.”
Oh, holy hell. When he puts it like that …
Trent’s cock demanded too much attention for him to think long on Xavier’s words, but he filed them away to consider later. Perhaps Xav had a point, but damned if he knew what it was just now.
If someone comes in, there’s going to be hell to pay …
Xavier licked the tip of his cock, and that was the last rational thought Trent had.
He gasped, moaned and bucked his hips as Xavier worked him over eagerly. Fuck, he’d forgotten how amazing it felt to be in the wet heat of Xavier’s mouth. Those plump lips looked perfect around his dick, and Trent was hit with memories.
The first time Xavier put his mouth on Trent like this, they’d been quizzing each other in preparation for the SATs. For every right answer, they got to ask for a sexual favor.
They’d started with a simple kiss, then with clothes coming off. They’d made out many times over and given each other hand jobs, but they hadn’t yet explored blow jobs. To Trent’s astonishment, when Xavier had his next chance at a reward, he didn’t ask Trent to blow him. He chose to suck Trent— as a reward to himself.
The idea that Xavier wanted to suck his cock enough to consider it a reward had blown his mind, and he’d blown his wad in two seconds flat. Which is also how they came to discover that Xavier hated cum and didn’t appreciate boyfriends who didn’t give a guy some warning.
Trent also remembered he’d been an immature dick who hadn’t returned the favor. That night at least.
Xavier moaned around Trent’s cock, pulling him from his memories. His hair was still pulled back and Trent reached down, tugging the hair tie loose and watching his dreadlocks cascade down. Trent reached down and pushed his dreads back, gripping them tightly as he held on for the ride.
Xavier took his cock deeper, and the pleasure built like a pressure valve getting ready to blow.
“Xav, baby,” he whispered. “I’m going to come soon. Pull off.”
Xavier let his cock slide from his mouth, lips so shiny they looked like he’d applied a coat of lip gloss. “Are you clean?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m always safe and I test regularly.”
Xavier lowered his mouth, sucking him back in. He sucked hard, bobbing fast, and rolled Trent’s balls in his hand. He was looking to finish him, and Trent wasn’t going to fight it, even if he was a bit surprised.
He let the rising tide of pleasure wash over him. It crashed over his head, blotting out all his senses. He could only groan and shake and ride it out. When it ebbed, he was leaning against the wall, trembling. Only Xavier’s hands, pinning his thighs to the wall, kept him upright.
“You swallowed.”
Xavier rested his face against Trent’s hip as he caught his breath.
“Less messy,” he said. “We’re in a hospital.”
He chuckled. “True.”
“I wouldn’t do it for just anyone.”
Xavier looked up and their eyes met and held. Trent felt a flutter of guilt about how he’d reacted the first time Xavier sucked him off. He’d eventually repaid the favor, but he realized he’d been a selfish lover back then. He
had no intention of repeating those past mistakes, either.
“Your turn,” he said.
He followed his words with a jaw-cracking yawn.
Xavier tucked Trent’s dick away and climbed to his feet. His eyes looked distant.
“You just did surgery and you’re exhausted,” Xavier said. “Come on, Marge is waiting. I’ll drive, and you can nap on the way to the motel."
“Okay,” he agreed as his eyes drooped. “Rain check?”
“We’ll see.”
Chapter Eleven
A call came while Xavier was in the shower that night. Trent had washed up when they’d arrived at the motel and was now air-drying in a pair of boxer briefs. He was hoping to stay awake long enough to watch Xavier exit the bathroom in nothing but a towel.
It was good to have goals in life.
He didn’t delude himself into thinking Xavier would fall into bed because of one blow job— especially with how distant he’d seemed right afterward. Still, he wouldn’t mind a glimpse of all that skin stretched over taut muscle. Xavier had a hell of a body, and he was too fond of covering it up in Trent’s presence.
The phone trilled again, and Trent picked it up. Helen’s name flashed on the display.
He’d last spoken to her at Christmas, always a tough time when you’ve lost a loved one. But they’d had a few phone calls before then that had been fun, friendly chats just to check in with each other. Helen had been coping as well as could be expected.
It wasn’t the ideal time to have one of their heart-to-hearts, but as usual, he couldn’t decline her call.
“Hello,” he answered.
A shuddering breath greeted him.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Rough day?”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a small sob. “I’m sure you don’t need to hear this.”
“Honey, it’s okay. I love you and the kids,” he said soothingly. The bathroom door opened and Xavier stepped out, but Trent couldn’t even enjoy the sight. “You can call me anytime.”
He let her vent her frustration and grief in his ear, heading into the bathroom so he wouldn’t keep Xavier awake.
“Wade is acting out at school, and I just keep wanting to ask Byron what to do. We were a team on this stuff, and he left me all alone.”
Her voice was heartbreaking, making his own grief swell. He knew he should talk to her more often, but it was hard to deal with the feelings she raised in him. Most days, he could push the sadness he felt about Byron to the back of his mind. He focused on Xavier to the point of distraction because that’s what he needed.
It wasn’t fair to Helen, who couldn’t escape her pain so easily.
“Helen, if you want me to come back ...”
Trent trailed off, terrified she might take him up on it. He didn’t want to leave Xavier when they were just beginning to make peace. He didn’t want to leave him ever.
“No,” she said with a sniffle. “I just needed to talk. You have your own life. And you’ll be back eventually, right? After Operation Boyfriend, you can drag Xavier back with you. I know you surgeons can’t stay out of the OR for long. Byron used to say ... well, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Sure it does,” Trent said gently. “I know what he said. Once you play god, it’s hard to go back to being a mere mortal.”
She chuckled. “He got a lot of crap for that comment.”
“Oh, he was kidding, not that there isn’t some truth to it. We play god, and sometimes it’s easy to forget we’re not invincible. Now, if I’d said it, people would have thought I really believed I was God,” he said with a chuckle. “Byron was so humble we barely recognized him as one of our own.”
They laughed quietly, and it was nice to be able to bring Byron to life in that one small moment, rather than fixate only on his death. It was a bittersweet reprieve.
“Maybe that’s why he couldn’t handle what happened,” she said softly.
“Maybe,” Trent said. “It wasn’t really about one patient, though, Helen. He wanted to save them all. That’s not possible.”
“I know, but this was the first time he felt he was at fault. When you work to be perfect your whole life, it’s a long fall from the pedestal.”
***
Trent stepped back into the room, moving to the nightstand to plug in his phone to charge. Xavier was a lump under the covers, his back to Trent, so he figured he was asleep.
He shoved down his sweats and peeled off his T-shirt, then climbed into his own bed. He’d just clicked off the lamp when Xavier spoke.
“How are the kids?” Xavier asked. “You forgot to mention you had a family back there. What happened to your life being empty?”
Trent was so surprised he barked a laugh. “Are you serious?”
Xavier sat up and clicked on the lamp. He hadn’t bothered with a T-shirt tonight, but it was difficult to enjoy the breadth of his chest and firm pectoral muscles with the angry tension running through his body.
“Honey, you said. You said you loved him — or maybe her? — and the kids. What should I be thinking?”
“How about you stop thinking, since you’re obviously bad at it,” Trent snapped. “It’s really not your business anyway.”
Xavier flinched at his words, his harsh tone or maybe both. Trent still felt raw from the emotional call with Helen.
“You don’t want to be my business?” Xavier said. “Fine. Done.”
Trent could physically feel Xavier putting distance between them. With his molecules, he sensed his ex-boyfriend drifting farther from the current that ran between them.
Xavier threw himself back down on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, but his jaw was too tight to give the illusion of sleep. His whole body thrummed with restrained energy, from his fists clenching the sheets to the bunched muscles in his shoulders. Trent was almost sure Xavier wanted to hit him.
If he didn’t know Xavier as well as he did, he might be intimidated. His ex was pissed, but he was also a gentle soul. He wouldn’t kick Trent’s ass, even if his body screamed violence at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” Trent said. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not easy to talk about, that’s all. But it’s not what you think.”
Xavier took three deep breaths, his chest rising and falling with each exhalation. He relaxed his death grip on the sheets and opened his eyes.
“Okay,” he said.
He turned onto his side, facing the wall. He was calm, but his shields were still up.
Trent groaned in frustration. “Come on, Xav. That was Helen on the phone. She just lost her husband, okay? And I’m the only one she can talk to when it all gets to be too much. And yeah, I love the kids, but they’re not mine.”
Xavier rolled over to face him. “Helen is your friend Byron’s wife?”
Trent was touched Xavier had remembered Byron’s name, even after such a brief mention. It showed he listened and he cared.
Trent swallowed hard, not wanting to talk about it. “Yeah. Byron’s widow now,” he said.
“Damn, man. I’m sorry. I keep making an ass of myself over you.”
Trent liked the sound of that. If Xavier was off-balance, it meant he was affected by Trent, and that was so much better than apathy.
“Since when have I ever been bisexual?” he asked, unable to resist teasing Xavier. “Why would you even go there?”
Xavier looked embarrassed. “It could have been a guy on the phone,” he said, defending his over-reaction. “Besides, we were really young when we broke up. Anything’s possible. I barely know you anymore. You haven’t talked about your life much, except for telling me about Byron. Besides, you called her honey.”
“Come on, Marge calls everyone honey. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“But you never call people something like that unless they’re important to you.”
Trent smiled. “See? You do know me, Xav.”
Xavier grunted, unimpressed with his response. Trent wanted to be in that bed with him so he could to
uch him, close the odd distance that had risen between them.
Fuck it, he thought, and slid out of bed. He crossed to Xavier and sat on the edge of his mattress. He could sense Xav wasn’t ready to be wrapped in his arms, so he reached out and grabbed his hand instead.
“She was upset, and I guess she is kind of like family now or as close to it as I’ve got. Byron was my best friend for years. We worked together, which can sometimes be a pissing match with surgeons, but he was above all that. He really was a great man. He had the whole dream: great job, great wife and kids. House in the suburbs.”
“I’m sorry you lost him.”
Xavier squeezed his hand, and Trent nodded, unable to bring himself to explain how Byron died. Xavier wasn’t asking for details, so he didn’t give them.
“He shouldn’t have died like he did. And what if I died tomorrow? What would I have to show for it?”
Xavier wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his head in Trent’s lap.
“A lot,” he said. “You have so much.”
“Do I?”
Xavier looked up. “You saved a life today—”
Trent started to scoff but Xavier shushed him. “You saved a life, and that’s not something everyone can do. You’re a good doctor, whatever kind you decide to be. I admire you for following your dreams.”
Trent snorted. “Now, I know that’s a lie.”
Xavier couldn’t possibly be happy Trent had left him behind for college and then medical school. They’d been apart for years, without a single visit, phone call or letter between them. He vaguely remembered Xavier trying to reach out in the first few days after their break-up, but he’d been too furious to talk to him. He’d ignored the missed calls, determined to move on and meet the perfect guy in college. Someone ambitious like him. Someone who didn’t let their family hold them back.
By the time he realized he’d been a total idiot and thrown away a good thing, it felt far too late to apologize. Until Byron died. His death had put everything in perspective for Trent. Facing your mortality will make you rethink petty things like pride and fear of rejection.
Xavier tightened his grip on his waist. “It’s not a lie. I never wanted you to give up anything for me. I couldn’t chase it with you, but I admired your ambition.”
