by P. W. Davies
“I’d be mad,” Peter said with a sigh, “but something tells me you’re not the kind of man who likes being confined to bed.”
“Not without blindfolds and restraints.” His head tilted, lips curling. “You’re concerned. It’s endearing.”
“It’s called the Hippocratic oath.”
“Outdated concept. And yet again, you aren’t telling yourself the full truth.” Christian inched closer to Peter, leaning over the table enough to lower his voice. “Are you actually worried about me?” he asked, his smile fading to become softer; more subdued.
Something about the look made Peter mirror it. “It’s my job to worry. That’s what I do. Besides, I was hoping to get another peek at you with that really attractive hospital gown on.”
Christian blurted a laugh. As he pulled away from Peter, the latter both regretted the sudden distance and felt relief rush over him, grateful to be freed of the draw toward Christian. “If you think anything about that gown is attractive, then someone’s needed to rescue you for a while,” Christian said, seemingly oblivious to Peter’s relief.
Peter shrugged. “Maybe I just love polyester and cotton blends?”
“Spoken like a true connoisseur of men, if we’re going to acknowledge stereotypes.” Christian reached for his coffee cup, inspiring Peter to do the same. A comfortable silence settled between them, disrupted only when Christian sat more upright in his chair, resting his good elbow against its back. “Alright, I’ll be honest. I was feeling claustrophobic. I recover better when in more familiar surroundings.”
“Granted. Even if you didn’t break your shoulder, though, you still lost a lot of blood.”
“Believe me when I say it wouldn’t be my first time. I promise I won’t get into any barroom brawls until I’m closer to one-hundred percent.” The amusement returned to his face, his hand lifting his coffee cup to take a drink from it before he recognized the shift in temperament with words. “That isn’t why I’m here, though, love. You told me you’d consider allowing me to take you out. If you don’t mind that it looks like I need this annoying sling for a few additional days, I would enjoy showing you a good time.”
A flight of nerves raced through Peter. He took a sip of his drink to mask his apprehension. “I don’t know, Christian. Like I said, I can be a busy person. That doesn’t lend itself to a whole lot of time when I can be available.”
“Fortunate for you, I’m not the kind of man who requires constant tending.” He chuckled. “Just for one date. If I convince you to go on another, we can cross that bridge later, but I’m content not putting the cart before the horse.”
“So, when you say, ‘a good time’, you’re not just talking about –”
“– Sex? No. Not that I’d be disappointed if that was the turn events took, but something tells me I should let this mend a bit further, first.”
Peter chuckled, glancing at Christian’s arm. “I don’t think your arm will like the idea once the pain medication wears away.” Taking a deep breath, Peter considered the proposition, thinking about the spring Christian had put in his step the day before; the giddiness and arousal that the other man inspired every time Peter found himself in the room with him. He wasn’t his patient anymore – or a patient of the hospital at all – but even a date stood the risk of being pulled in further. And he still had no idea what circumstances had brought Christian there in the first place.
“When did you want to go out?” Peter asked.
“Tomorrow night. The night after. Whenever works best for you.” Christian arched a brow. “You’re the one with more of a schedule conflict, so you’d have to tell me.”
“You know, you could have just left me your phone number.”
“Maybe, but fortune favors the bold.” After taking another drink of coffee, he set the cup back down on the table. “At the same time, I doubt you would have called me. You seem apt to deny your draw to me.”
Peter felt his pulse increase in tempo, not able to stop when a small blush rose to his cheeks. “Stop it,” he said, as much to himself as to Christian. Using the coffee as a chance to gather his composure back, he sensed the inevitable cave-in, that same tickle that had him jerking off in the shower whispering in his ear, ‘Come on, it’s one date. Try one date.’ “Well, if there’s anything you are, Christian, it’s bold.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Christian leaned forward again, acting like he could sense that tickle and felt compelled to fan the flames. His arm fell from the back of the chair and as he rested his unencumbered elbow on the table, he used it for leverage to encroach further in Peter’s space again. “Maybe it’s the haze of narcotics, but you look exceptionally irresistible today.”
While the comment made Peter laugh, the sound he made came out sounding low; breathy. Rather than retreating, he found himself leaning closer this time. “Does dropping that line always work for you?”
“That remains to be seen, but I’m hopeful.”
“I’ll bet.” Peter clenched his eyes shut, trying to force a decision out; both knowing he should say no, but wanted more than anything to say yes. His first thoughts might have centered around his career, and the lack of time being a night-shift, Emergency Room physician leant him, but if he had to be honest with himself, the man within wanted some assurance this wouldn’t be wasted time. He didn’t need a schedule of future dates or even, some ironclad assurance that this time – this time – his heart wouldn’t be broken. All he wanted to know was whether this would be worth the risk.
At the same time, something deeper than desperation prodded him along, promising that whatever this might be, it would be an exciting ride. Yes, Christian was pretty and Peter couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a bad boy. But he was also an enigma, and Peter would never be able to anticipate the twists and turns the road took ahead. Exhaling another shaky breath, he fought the urge to close what distance remained between him and the man taunting him, indulging one kiss. Fuel, he thought, for the next shower fantasy.
A cliff overlooking the unknown stood before him and Peter wanted to jump.
“I’d like to get to know you,” Peter managed, opening his eyes. “I think it’s pretty clear that I want you.”
“Refreshing that you’re not denying it,” Christian said.
“I’m not, but I’d still like to know more about you than the fact that you hate sitting still.”
“Not unreasonable. I’ll have you know, though, it’s outside my normal modus operandi to let anybody know too much about me.”
“Sure, it probably is, but how much do you want me?”
The question, while issued sincerely, seemed to rattle Christian enough to force him to pull away. His gaze met Peter’s in a much more direct sort of way, brow furrowed as he regarded the other man. When Christian’s hand lowered from the table, Peter swore at himself internally, chastising his better judgment, but at the same time, he got the sense he hadn’t asked a stupid question.
“I gather you mean more than just physically,” Christian finally noted.
Peter sighed, and then punctuated the action with another, smaller shrug. “You’re the one mentioning the potential of more than one date,” he said. “I don’t think it’s reaching for me to say that means something.”
“Might be that I simply find you attractive.”
“You wouldn’t be putting up with this much resistance.”
“Some of the fun is in the pursuit, love. You obviously don’t know how men like me tick.” Despite the mocking way Christian issued the retort, a grin of admiration spread across his lips. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin up to peer more directly at Peter. ‘Well played,’ his expression said. “Under normal circumstances how a person is in bed tells me all I need to know about them.”
“Sounds a little shallow to me,” Peter quipped.
“I’m a good read of people, I simply choose the venue I use to test their mettle.” Christian produced a soft hum. “You use a different method, though, w
hich is why I’m observing the normal ritual of dating.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard it called that. Maybe I just prefer actual dates instead of the excuse to get me into bed.”
“I’m not usually one for formalities. You can add that to your growing list of things to know about me.” While the grin had steadily vanished, it blossomed into life again, spurred by something dark and secret within Christian. Something that resembled intrigue. “Yes, I want you, Peter,” Christian said. “And not only because you’re attractive. If I’m apt to mask that with banter, it’s because that frightens me a little.”
“Why does it frighten you?”
“Because we might have more in common than you realize. Forgive me that riddle for the time being.” His eyes held Peter’s gaze, unrelenting. “What evening am I coming by to pick you up?”
Peter shook his head. His lips mirrored Christian’s, though, in defiance of the exasperation he tried to communicate to the other man. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen and clicked the end. “Have a piece of paper? I’ll write down my address. And Friday works best, though I’m available on Sunday, too, before I have another stretch of four.”
“It sounds like I have my window of opportunity.” He arched a brow. “Friday, then?”
“Friday, it is.”
Christian reached inside his pocket, producing a dog-eared business card with a blank back and sliding it over to Peter. Peter chuckled and wrote his address on the back, with his cell phone number beneath it, before flipping it over to see the other side. “I take it you’re not going to pick me up on your motorcycle,” Peter said, reading what was the location of a repair shop before passing Christian back the card.
“Not unless my mechanic can work a miracle,” he said with a smirk. Pocketing the card, he pulled out his chair and rose to a stand. “More likely a matter for insurance. Settle for a rain check and my company while you walk back to the hospital?”
“I guess I can settle for that.” Peter stood as well and slipped the pen away first before taking hold of his coffee. As Christian did the same, they strode casually for the door to the coffee shop, Peter walking ahead to hold open the door while Christian thanked him for his chivalry. The way he spoke the words brought back his playful tenor, the streetlights reflecting on his eyes enough for Peter to see mischief dancing in them again.
Walking back to the hospital, Peter thought of things like the confident swagger of the other man and the way he handed flirtatious comments out, as if he had plenty to spare. He thought of the ever-present curl in Christian’s lips and that, despite only being a few days out from an accident, he almost acted like the sling was an inconvenience and nothing more. Peter knew he meant it, when he said he wanted to get to know Christian, but even he couldn’t fool himself. The other night had provided Peter a glimpse of the scars the man carried on his body. Again, he found himself caught up in the mystery surrounding the man he’d agreed to go out with.
His distractedness, however, left him taken aback when they paused by the doors of the Emergency Room and Christian swiftly advanced on him. Before he knew it, their chests were pressed together and, rather than take a step back, Peter followed the compulsion to bend while the other man lifted onto the balls of his feet and placed his hand on the back of Peter’s neck. Their lips brushed before Christian kissed him and as his eyes fluttered shut, Peter instinctively lifted a hand to touch Christian’s good arm.
It ended just as abruptly as it had started and left him in a daze when Christian retreated. Forced to blink a few times to establish a connection with reality, Peter focused drunkenly on Christian while the shorter man walked backward. Whatever expression Peter had on his face, it must have struck Christian as amusing because he chuckled. “I’ll see you on Friday night,” he said, giving Peter a loose salute before making his exit.
Peter watched Christian disappear into the night and stared for what felt like hours afterward.
Sleeping, later, became a lost and hopeless cause even when he did find the wherewithal to move. His body still buzzed and his mind felt adrift without any sight of land for miles around him. Portions of the day passed in vignettes, a montage of bathing and eating and barely suppressing the urge to masturbate again. As the drone of the television threatened to lull him asleep, a corner of his tired mind saw himself in Christian’s lap with his back against the other man’s chest. He could almost feel the kisses littering his neck, interspersed between playful nips.
“We should go to bed,” he heard that sultry, seductive voice whisper to him, the suggestion laden with ulterior motives. And Peter knew he would have been powerless to resist. Without the sling to encumber him, Christian would have tugged him up to the loft by both hands and used those same hands to push him down onto the bed.
Peter’s final thought before drifting off was the sound of Christian calling out his name.
Four
Chloe watched him fumble through paperwork and grinned like a conspirator when Peter asked what was so funny. “You have a date, darling?” the middle-aged nurse asked as he tried to focus on the computer screen in front of him, her looming presence causing his already-divided focus to stray further. Still, the light, teasing sound of her voice made it difficult for him to be angry at the intrusion.
“Something like that,” he said without looking away from the monitor. Not fully seeing the expression on her face, he found himself mirroring her smile anyway. “You’re making me blush.”
“Honey, you do that all on your lonesome without my help. Don’t blame me.”
She patted him on the shoulder as she walked past and for a moment, Peter needed to push aside the butterflies which had taken flight inside his stomach. Whatever composure he had managed to cling onto throughout the day departed by the end of his shift and when he left the hospital on Friday morning, he paused by the stairwell leading to the subway to steady himself. In less than a few hours, he’d be accompanying Christian heaven only knew where and the prospect had a strange level of exhilaration attached to it.
He pressed on, returning to his apartment. Bypassing the neglected stack of mail on the table, Peter slept and showered, promising himself he would clean it up before Christian arrived. Instead, it became forgotten again, abandoned in favor of loading Netflix after he’d gotten dressed into what he planned on wearing for their date. It wasn’t until a light tapping at the door brought his attention away from the television that he realized how much time had passed. Jumping up, he muted the volume before turning off the device altogether. “Be right there,” he said.
Nervously, Peter adjusted his button-down shirt, which matched the color of his eyes, and strode for the door. Dressed casual, in a pair of dark, blue jeans and worn, brown loafers, he quickly felt underdressed the moment he opened the door and saw the shorter man waiting on the other side. Clad in a white shirt and pinstripe vest, with a matching pair of slacks, Christian had abandoned the sling and looked like the picture of restored health.
“Now, that’s not fair,” Peter said, flashing a smile. “You look prettier than I do. Though I’m tempted to ask where you left the sling.”
“Doctor, please forgive me, but is there an attractive man named Peter available for a date?” Christian asked, a broad smile spreading across his lips. As Peter chuckled, Christian sobered. “I promise I’m not in any pain. Scout’s honor.”
“Christian, I know you’ve never been a scout.”
“Judging a book by its cover. Even if you’re right, I’m tempted to be offended.” Much to Peter’s relief, Christian made no motion to enter the apartment. “Shall we get going? The night’s young, but I have every intention of filling it.”
“I guess I can leave the stethoscope here, then.” His grin turned readier and less nervous. Peter reached for a dark, wool coat and threaded his arms through his sleeves while motioning out of the apartment. Christian lingered behind him to shut the door, and then took a place by Peter’s side. “What
do you have planned?” Peter asked.
“The standard fare of debauchery,” he quipped. They walked to the stairwell and Christian laughed while Peter shot him a look of disbelief. “Actually, I wondered if you had any aversion to sushi. You said you wanted to know me better, so I’m taking you to one of my favorite places.”
“I love sushi. So far, so good.”
“Already my lucky night.” Christian offered Peter his arm, in a gesture that seemed more gentlemanly than Peter had figured the other man capable of. Making sure first that it wasn’t the bad arm being offered, he gripped onto Christian’s elbow and descended the stairs with him. While Peter had never been the kind to feel ashamed or embarrassed about who he was, the gesture still bore more openness than he was used to demonstrating. Deep down inside, Peter admitted it felt liberating.
A taxi waiting outside drove them closer to Center City and dropped them off on the northeastern edge of Rittenhouse Square. As they strolled along the street, paying only casual attention to the others walking beside them, Peter fell into a comfortable silence, his eyes fixed on the deliberate arrangement of trees littering an otherwise urban landscape. Whatever Christian had on his mind, he didn’t seem apt to share it, though it failed to lend any tension to the air. It wasn’t until they neared the edge of Rittenhouse Square that Christian’s stride began to slow.
The moment which followed transformed into slow motion; like one of those scenes in the cheesy romance books Peter occasionally indulged. What little breeze blew past them carried Christian’s scent – a cologne which matched the other man like a well-tailored suit. It felt like a deliberate pick, as did the clothing Christian wore; chosen, as if he knew exactly what things about his lithe frame to accentuate. Peter caught himself staring and flashed an apologetic smile when Christian seemed to notice.
