Dr. Perfect: An MM Gay Romance

by Peter Styles

  But those eyes… I could have fallen into those eyes and drowned, and maybe I already had. God knows I was flailing like a man without a life preserver.

  I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. If anyone would notice us slipping out the door before the clock struck midnight. They were all preoccupied, and Jason was staring expectantly at me. Nothing left to do but finish what I’d started.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice too gravelly. I cleared my throat. “I definitely want to go somewhere if you’re game. No one is paying us any attention.”

  “Yeah, because it’s almost midnight. Are you sure you want to go now? Before the ball drops, I mean. Wasn’t there someone— I mean, I figured you would want to—” He inclined his head toward the group of nurses I’d spent half the night dodging.

  Oh, yeah.

  I’d forgotten there was one little problem. Jason, whom I’d ogled so much I had permanent pre-cum stains in my scrub pants, thought I was straight.

  I chuckled at my own stupidity. Here I thought he had just agreed to hook up with me, and the truth was he didn’t even realize I was hitting on him. Clearly, I needed to step up my game.

  “You figured what?” I asked, teasing him just a little.

  “That you’d… you know. It’s a tradition. You weren’t planning on kissing anyone when the ball drops?”

  I took a step toward him and dropped my voice low. “Well, that depends.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Depends on what?”

  One more step forward, and I was in his personal space, so close I could feel the heat coming off of him. I took a long swig of beer and licked my lips. “On whether you like the taste of second-hand IPA.”

  My dick was hard now, probably showing, and it only got harder when Jason licked his own lips. I took one more incremental step forward, way too close now, and Jason’s eyes darkened as his pupils dilated.

  He just stood there like a deer in headlights. So adorable.

  “Let’s go someplace quiet.” I bumped his chest with mine, starting him moving toward the door, and glanced around the room as I followed. Most everyone was crowded around the TV now, waiting for that one moment when the ball would drop, and everything in the world would feel shiny and new. No one seemed to be watching us, and that was good.

  The hallway outside was empty, and I grabbed Jason’s hand and dragged him to a break room a few doors down. Jason was laughing by the time I pulled the door open and shoved him inside. The room was cold and dark, with tables and chairs hunkering in the shadows as if catching a little nap before the morning crowd hit. Being a doctor and having to take call, I could definitely relate to that.

  “What are we doing?” Jason’s voice quivered with nerves, and it only served to heighten my arousal. “Are we having coffee?”

  “Coffee is the last thing on my mind.” I stalked him toward the wall just inside the door, and he retreated. Just like I wanted him to.

  His back came up against the wall with a thump. “I, uh—” He ran a hand through his hair, then stared at his hand with startled eyes. “Dammit, I forgot I put that junk in my hair.” He wiped his palm against the fabric of his pants with a nervous little laugh.

  “That junk looks good in your hair,” I said, so close now I caught the scent of it. Like patchouli and musk. “Smells good, too.”

  I reached out and cupped his jaw, running my thumb back and forth along his full bottom lip. A swath of muted light from the break room window slanted across his face, illuminating the blue in his eyes just right. God, I wanted to fall right into them. To get lost in him and never resurface.

  “What are you doing?” he breathed.

  As if he didn’t know. How could a twenty-eight-year-old man seem so damned innocent?

  “Looking at you.” I leaned my free hand on the wall beside him, caging him in. Even in the low light, I thought I saw him blush.

  “You look at me all the time.” His eyes darted to the side as if being looked at so intently made him uncomfortable. “Almost every day.”

  “I do. And I still haven’t gotten my fill.”

  A breath caught in his throat, and his gaze slid back to mine. “I don’t understand. I feel like I’m getting some mixed signals here, maybe because we’ve had too much to drink. I— You are straight, right?”

  I chuckled. “Not even a little bit.”

  “But you never told me.”

  “Yeah? Well, you never told me you had a cat. Now we’re even.”

  “That’s different, and you know it. It’s just—“

  Before he could finish his thought, a cheer went up from down the hall, muted by the walls between us but loud enough to be heard. Party horns squealed, and music played, the notes tinny and unrecognizable, but the message was clear.

  “Mmmm…” I growled, feeling anticipation sizzling through my veins. “It’s midnight. Time for that kiss.”

  I leaned in and captured Jason’s lips, gently at first, and his moved against mine. Soft, sweet, tentative. The feel of him, the taste of him I’d wanted to steal since the first time I’d laid eyes on him… It was all mine in this frozen moment in time, and I pressed in and claimed more, unable to hold back any longer.

  We kissed like there was no tomorrow, my hand winding into the hair at the nape of his neck and feeling the pomade sticky on my skin. I didn’t care. Need was upon me, and that need had been denied for far too long.

  The occasional Grindr hookup wasn’t getting it anymore, especially when lately I just closed my eyes and imagined they were Jason. But now I had the real thing in my arms, and I wanted more. I wanted to be inside him. I wanted it all.

  I pressed my body into his, flattening him to the wall, and rocked my erection against him. He groaned into my mouth and pushed back with his hips. I could feel him, feel how hard he was, and the friction of our cocks skating against each other set off a volley of fireworks in my head. Or maybe it was the sound of fireworks coming from the other room. Who the hell could tell at that point? I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight.

  Jason was here, pressed against my body, squirming in my grip as I dug my fingers into his hip hard enough to make him groan and pull slightly away from my kiss.

  “Mark,” he panted against my cheek. His arms wound around my neck and pulled me close. “I want—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence, dammit. What? What did sweet, beautiful Jason Whitham want from me? Because I knew what I wanted. My dick was a steel rod in my pants, and my heart was pounding like a goddamn war drum.

  I released my death grip on his hip and slid my hand between us, grabbing onto his hard cock and stroking roughly through the fabric. Yes, God yes, this is what I wanted. Had wanted for what seemed like ages. I turned my attention to my own dick, squeezing it for relief as my arousal became almost too much to bear.

  “You want what, baby? You want my big cock inside of you? Is that what you want?” I fumbled drunkenly with my zipper and brought it down, the sound cutting through the room with startling clarity.

  And then Jason froze. Just fucking froze.

  I pulled back and searched for his eyes in the dark. Still panting with mounting desire, I asked, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  He didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a mix of confusion and worry on his face.

  I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, and then another, getting very little in return. “Hey, I’ve got a condom.” I stuck my hand into the pocket of my pants and brought out the contents. “I’ve even got lube, see? No worries.”

  “You come prepared,” he said. And was that bitterness in his tone? Jesus Christ, what had gone wrong?

  I moved against him and bent to place a kiss to the side of his neck. “What the fuck just happened, J? Talk to me.”

  He pushed against me hard enough to make me stumble back, and suddenly I felt like the world’s biggest asshole, standing there with my pants unzipped, and a condom and lube clutched in my palm.
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  “This was a mistake,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” He pushed past me and headed for the door.

  “No no no no no. Jason, wait.” I moved between him and the door, frantic to get this sorted out. My dick was hard enough to pound nails into a two-by-four, and he was hard, too. I’d felt the evidence pressed against me only seconds before. So, what had happened?

  Jason gazed up at me, and a smile ghosted his kiss-swollen lips. But he didn’t look happy or pleased in the least. His eyes glistened with moisture, and there was something in their depths—something dark and sad that gave my heart a lurch.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Everything is fine. I’ll…see you in the morning.” He tried for a brighter smile, but it just looked forced. “Get some sleep, okay? We don’t need a hung-over doctor killing patients in the ED.”

  Then he ducked past me and pushed through the door, and I rang in the New Year with an unsatisfied boner and a busted ego.

  Well, look on the bright side, I thought bitterly. The year can only get better from here.

  5

  Jason

  The Emergency Department was a madhouse when I got there at a quarter to seven. It was cold and misty outside, and that mist probably had something to do with the number of patients already crammed into the ED.

  New Year’s was always a busy time, and I’d been reminded of that fact before I’d even made it to Vandy. The blood alcohol content of the population of Nashville was probably at least double the norm on the first day of the year. Add to that the low visibility caused by the fog, and you had the makings for a rash of accidents. Traffic was congested, abandoned or disabled vehicles littered the shoulders of the interstate, and the highway incident crews and state patrols were out in full force. I barely made it to work on time, and I mentally patted myself on the back for thinking ahead.

  “Gotta love the holidays,” I muttered to myself as the ED doors slid open with a whoosh and I stepped inside.

  I made a beeline for the break room, where I stashed my lunch in the refrigerator. Then I navigated to the computers, logged onto an available machine, and started taking patients, trying my best not to think about what had happened the night before.

  First, there was a kid with asthma who needed a breathing treatment and a refill on his inhaler. Then an elderly woman with a heart rate in the thirties who seemed otherwise stable. Her EKG indicated a bad blockage, so I had to call Dr. Rosenfeld in for that one. Within the hour, we had her upstairs getting prepped for a pacemaker.

  A man presented with chest pains, but after a lengthy interrogation, I determined that it was gas from all of the holiday food he’d eaten the day before. It was nearly one before things slowed down enough to break for lunch, which was not unusual. Hell, I’d even learned to hold off on bathroom breaks to the point normal people would have pissed themselves. Such was the life of an ED resident.

  The break room was empty when I got there, and I took a moment to sprawl out in one of the chairs and just breathe while my food warmed in the microwave. When the beep sounded to tell me my broccoli chicken was done, I groaned and dragged myself out of the chair.

  The problem with relaxing during a shift was that I always had to get back up, and by that time my muscles had slowed down enough to get the message that they were worn out. Fuck, I felt stiff. And it didn’t help that I was slightly dehydrated from last night’s alcohol binge.

  I also hadn’t gotten much sleep. The alcohol had helped, but it hadn’t been enough to beat back the thoughts of Mark and what had happened between us. The harder I tried to put it out of my mind, the worse it got. The memories of the kisses we had shared, the feel of his hand on my dick. It had been a dream come true, except for—You want my big cock inside of you?—Mark turning out to be a total douchebag.

  God, it made me so angry. And so…ashamed. Over a year of pining away for Mark Johnson, of dreaming of loving him and being loved by him, and he’d made me feel like a cheap piece of ass. A drunken, groping one-night stand in a freaking hotel break room.

  I could still remember the press of his hard body against mine and the longing that had nearly consumed me. Nearly made me do something I would have regretted for the rest of my life.

  You want my big cock inside of you?

  Fuck yes, I wanted it. More than anything in the world, I wanted Mark Johnson to be the first—the only—man to claim my body in that way. But not like that. Not like I was just a convenient place to bury his dick on New Year’s Eve.

  Stop thinking about it.

  But it was just so disappointing. Mark was just another one of those bi-curious guys who go gay when they drink. I’d met my fair share of those. Get a few beers in them, and they’re ready to fuck the nearest warm body. Then you run into them in the light of day, and suddenly they’re Mr. Straight, hanging out with all of their homophobic friends and being extra careful not to glance in your direction. Well, screw that. I wasn’t about to be Mark Johnson’s dirty little secret, especially when we had to work together.

  Stop thinking about it, Jason. Just stop it.

  I groaned again as I bent to snag a bottle of water from the fridge and then took my food and drink to one of the tables. Microwave food. It sucked, but at least it wasn’t ramen. I’d eaten so many packets of noodles in college I was pretty sure I’d developed an allergy to them, or a phobia at the very least.

  Just as I was angrily spearing the last piece of broccoli with my fork, the break room door swung open, and Dr. Rosenfeld blew in like a gray-haired tornado. His white coat was askew, his stethoscope barely hanging on around his neck. His gray eyes looked puffy and tired and just a bit crazy.

  “Wild morning, huh Jason?”

  “Yes, sir.” I chewed the last of my food and set the fork down on the table. “Not as bad as last year, though.”

  He nodded and flopped into the chair opposite me. “I think you’ve been spared the worst of it so far. Mark, on the other hand, has been put through the wringer.”

  “Mark is here?” The words felt like ash in my throat.

  “Well, of course he is. He’s your lead. You haven’t seen him running around like a bat out of hell this morning?”

  “No.” The truth was, I had thought maybe Mark had called out. He’d been pretty drunk the night before, and I hadn’t caught a glimpse of him all morning. That was rare. He usually sought me out at least once during a shift, even if our paths didn’t cross while working a tough patient.

  I’d been tense all morning wondering when I would run into him. It was not a moment I was looking forward to. Not after last night.

  “Well, he’s definitely here,” Rosenfeld said. “I left him not fifteen minutes ago with an auto accident victim in room ten. Nothing too serious, but the man was drunk and making a big fuss. The police are on standby to take him down to the drunk tank. A real piece of work, that one. I thought a couple of times he was going to take a swing at one of us. In the end, all he did was puke on Mark’s shoes. Still, that was better than the code we worked earlier. A woman in her thirties took out a guardrail on 440. She didn’t make it.”

  “Really? Why didn’t I get called in on it?”

  Rosenfeld waved a hand in the air, and his eyes looked so damn tired. “It was pretty clear from the start. We could have called the entire hospital staff down, and she still would have died. She was pretty much gone the minute she hit that guardrail.”

  “Damn,” I said. “I feel almost guilty now. My patients have been pretty calm this morning. None of the usual New Years’ bullshit, unless you count the guy who had a roman candle blow up in his face. He’s definitely going to have scars.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember signing off on that one. When will people figure out that a few pretty lights in the sky aren’t worth the risks? The night shift treated a frat boy who had decided it would be a good idea to shoot a bottle rocket out of his ass. He was still here when I arrived this morning. He’s upstairs now.”

  “That’s awful,” I
said. “I doubt it was his idea, though. You remember what fraternities are like. They torture pledges like it’s an Olympic sport. All of that hazing and dick swinging.”

  “Well, the kid’s lucky he still has a dick to swing, I’ll tell you that.”

  I cringed at the thought and changed the subject. “So, do you think this is going to be a long shift?”

  “Probably. I don’t think the rush is over, and we’re going to need all hands on deck.” He winked. “Maybe you’ll get in on the action instead of puttering around with asthma patients and people who ate too many black-eyed peas and think they’re having a heart attack.”

  “Hey, I’ve been running my ass off on these minor things so that you guys can take care of the important stuff.” I knew as soon as the words were out of my mouth I shouldn’t have said it. I was trying to work myself into a job at Vanderbilt after my residency, and making it sound like I was just some second-string bench warmer wasn’t going to accomplish that. It was already hard enough competing with Dr. Perfect.

  As if sensing my line of thinking, Rosenfeld leaned across the table and patted my forearm. “You’re a good doctor, Jason. I see the way you care for patients. The way you put your heart into every single case. You don’t have to run a code to prove yourself to me.” He chuckled and pulled his hand back. “Not yet, anyway.”

  A little of the tension eased inside me, but it was short-lived. The door swung open again, and Mark Johnson stepped inside. He looked like shit. Well, as much like shit as Vanderbilt’s golden boy could look. His eyes were sunken, and there were dark circles under them. His hair had shaken loose from its usual perfection and hung across his forehead in a jumble of dark waves. Even in his disheveled and agitated state, he was arresting.

  His dark eyes settled on me for a couple of tense seconds, and something sparked in their depths. Then it was gone, and he shifted his gaze to Dr. Rosenfeld, who had twisted around in his chair to see who had come in.