Tag: hurt/comfort

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

temptingdominance:

hornyjustfordaddy:

flashdoggy:

Throw a few big dogs on that bed and you have my typical Sunday afternoons.

@temptingdominance

Yes!

August shuffled to the front door, feeling thick headed and blurry eyed. Was it his neighbor giving him mixed up mail again? He opened the door, blinking and stunned, but deeply pleased. “Oscar! What are you here?”
He looked a bit sheepish and held up a bag. “I um, just wanted to see you again, you know. I’ve been wanting to see you since our last date, and when I heard you were sick and that you had to cancel our date tonight, you sounded so down. I brought you some soup, tea, and tissues and magazines and stuff.”
August looked at his boyfriend fondly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m really happy to see you. I’m glad you came.”
Oscar smiled. “May I come in?”
“Oh sure sure. Watch Gordie there.”
August’s giant Rottweiler bowled Oscar over with a greeting. The dog was brimming with energy. “Oof! Oh hello big boy. Yes you are such a hyper dog!” Oscar looked at August. “Does he need to be walked?”
August looked at him. “Yeah he hasn’t been walked in two days,” he admitted. “Just so fucking sick and it’s so cold out there.”

Oscar nodded. “Well I’m still in my jacket. Why don’t you get started on this soup, make some tea, and I’ll check on you when I get back?”
August wondered if Oscar had been sent from heaven. “You are awesome. I’d kiss you if I wasn’t sick.”
“I’ll take a raincheck.”
August chuckled.

When Oscar returned with a tired and happy dog, he found August snuggled into the sofa with the empty take-out container of soup, a decimated cracker packet, and a nearly empty cup of tea. “Guess I was hungry?”
Oscar laughed. “Clearly.“

August’s body had been fighting its viral invaders all day, all now that it had fresh fuel, it was too much for him to stay awake and turn the food into energy. He quickly became drowsy. Oscar didn’t complain. He changed August’s sheets while August showered, and tucked him in. Oscar even risked getting sick himself by crawling in to bed with August to read him a bed time story.

August insisted on cuddling as close to Oscar as possible. He hoped Oscar could feel the love radiating from his body. He was still a bit shy about expressing his feelings, and found it easier to show them instead. Oscar put an arm over. August exhaled softly in contentment, and drifted off to the timbre of Oscar’s voice.

When he woke up the next morning, August felt marginally better. His fever had broken, but he felt warm because there was a giant dog on top of him. Oscar was no where to be seen, but there was fresh laundry in the basket at the foot of the bed. A quick check of the apartment showed it had been tidied. Dishes washed. August was stunned. His boyfriend had done this for him? A fresh lump appeared in throat. Fuck, he wasn’t worthy!

He found a note taped to his phone: Gordie’s been let out and fed. Went to run errands. Text me when you’re up, I’ll bring you breakfast 🙂

Why was that smiley face so cute? August checked the time. He texted Oscar. “I’m up for brunch now. Gonna take another shower. See you soon?”
As he was drinking last night’s cold tea, August got a response. “I’m bringing lox and bagels. See you soon!”
August smiled. He paused with his finger over his phone’s keyboard. Maybe it was the medication making him do it, but he responded. “Thank you, babe. Listen, um, I think …I think I’m falling in love with you.” He immediately panicked after sending it. The response time felt like an eon.
Oscar wrote back though. “Oh wow. Nice to hear you’re catching up to me. :)”

August couldn’t help it. He made it into the shower before he began to cry. After being abandoned by his mom, cheated on by a past lover, and scammed out of overtime at work, August finally felt like he was loved and cherished.

______________________
Captions are fictional. D’aw.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO THIS STORY.

____________________________________

I watch, hands on his shoulders for support. His hand is tense with pain from gripping.
“There you go…just like that…” I murmur in his ear. I feel it first. A tremor ripples down his shoulder to his shaky hands and vibrates the block, making the other blocks resting on the corner of the half pulled one shake and skew. The tower tilts wildly.
“Goddamn,” he swears, back-handing the whole thing. I gasp as the blocks scattered everywhere with a clatter. Cashew, who has been sitting by his Master’s feet waiting patiently, jumps to his paws and begins to collect the wooden blocks on the floor with his teeth and putting them in a pile.

At the chair in front of me, my boyfriend CJ rests his head in his shaking hands. I embrace him awkwardly from half standing position. “It’s ok, it’s ok…”
“No it’s not ok,” he whines, barely holding back emotion. “I hate this. I hate this! Why can’t I do this? I could do it before with no problem. I’m so fucking useless, I should have died in that car accident.”
“No! Don’t you say that. Don’t you fucking say that. I nearly went insane waiting for you to wake up int he hospital.” I pulled up a chair and sat in it. “I lost weight, I missed work, I didn’t eat… I didn’t go through that hoping you would DIE, Christopher James. I know this sucks, and I know it is hard, but you are young. Your noggin took a whack, but science and medicine saved you. You are so, so lucky CJ. It will just take time for your brain to finish healing.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” He sniffles. His shoulders tremble. I put an arm over him. “The doctors say it will,” I say, more soothing this time. “But even if it doesn’t? I will still love you. And I will still help you.”

CJ looks up at me with wet, sorrowful eyes. I’m still not used to seeing him with short hair. A long scar runs over his ear from where the doctors removed fragments of bone to let the swelling have some place to go. They later used plates to hold his skull together. I smile at him, just to show him it’s alright, and I embrace him. He cries and I let him.

The doctors, the nurses, the physical rehabilitation specialists all told us we were lucky. It’s hard to feel that way, but then you remember the fear you felt during those darkest hours and know that it can always be worse. I knew that fear. Getting the news, driving around in a hysterical daze. Picking a funeral home, just in case. Evaluating his organ donor status, just in case. The car accident happened over a month ago. CJ’s car was pushed into the dividing wall of a highway after a senior citizen blew a tire and lost control of her car. She hadn’t driven in a while, and the air pressure in her tires was low. Her daughter was supposed to take her to an appointment, but said daughter was called to her own daughter’s school due to her kid running a fever. Instead of taking a taxi or calling an Uber, the grandmother just decided to drive herself.

CJ’s car was so crumpled that they couldn’t get into it from the passenger side. They had to physically hook it up to the fire engine to move it, use the jaws of life to get the door off, and extract him. I thanked whatever deity or angel was out there looking after CJ, because the woman driving three cars behind him in his lane was a paramedic on her day off. The small paramedic wiggled in the car from the broken back window and held CJ’s neck still and pressed her shirt to the wound to stop the bleeding until the fire department cut him out. I had sent her many, many thank you cards and gifts, and made a donation to her favorite charity.

I think part of her efforts are why CJ’s brain damage isn’t more severe. They called it TBI, or traumatic brain injury. At the worse, it’s life destroying. Personalities can change permanently. People lose the ability to judge or act rationally or logically. They steal, do drugs, become violent. Their speech and mobility can change.

So in that aspect, CJ was oh so very lucky. He was still him, which is really all I asked God to give me. Sure, his speech was garbled and out of order for days after he woke up from surgery, but now he could speak in short sentences. And sure, he couldn’t remember a week before the accident, but he remembered me and his parents and Cashew. It was like I had cashed in all of my good karma and taken a loan out on the rest.
CJ though struggled with controlling his intense emotions like he used to. He would get incredibly frustrated out of nowhere, then burst into tears the next. This was only worsened by the loss of sensation to the right side of his body, meaning he had to have months of physical therapy to relearn walking on that side. He couldn’t manipulate small items yet either and got terrible tremors trying to grip things.

But I have CJ. I have him, the whole him. I promised myself to take his new flaws and love him even more. Cashew had been dopey with doggy happiness ever since his Master was back. He took special joy in helping, every way he could. He’s a good dog.

I fetch CJ a tissue and some water. “Ok?” I asked.
He nods. “I’m ok. Just…stupid jenga blocks.”
I chuckle. “They won’t win. Up for rebuilding and trying again?”
CJ exhales. He reaches down and pets Cashew, and takes some blocks out of his mouth. “Such a good dog.” He smiles, seeing the pile of blocks by his paws. “He’s so cute.”
“He is. And he missed you. The sooner we do this physical therapy, the sooner you can take him on runs and play frisbee like you used to.”
CJ nods. “I miss that. You know what I also miss?”
“What?” I ask.
“Us,” he says softly. It knocks the wind out of me.
“CJ…” I reply.
“I mean like, intimacy. You must have been so needy without me, and I wasn’t there.” Another tear slips down his tan cheek.
I wrap him in a hug again. “It’s not like that. I was so stressed out, sex was the last thing on my mind. But you know, if your right hand isn’t hurting so much after this…maybe we could fool around a little?”
CJ’s face lights up. “I’d love that. Do handjobs count as physical therapy?”
I pick up a cylindrical wooden block out of a tub on the table. “I think I’m a bit bigger than this don’t you think?”
CJ chuckles. I’m stunned by just how much that noise fills me with glee. It’d been so long since I heard him laugh last. “I think I can grip that. Yeah yours is bigger. And less green.”
My turn to laugh. “Maybe my balls are blue, but definitely not green.”
Then he’s laughing again and shaking his head. “You’re doing so much to take care of me, so I want to take care of you too.”
I put the block down and lean in for a kiss. “I’d like that. But you always come first, understand?”

He nods, very serious. “I will get better. I beat the water temple from Zelda 64 for fuck’s sake. I can handle fucking jenga.” His words are a bit slurred by the tenacity shines through.
“Fuck yeah you can.” I herd the blocks into a pile and slap him on the shoulder. “Get building.”
“Fuck yeah. Hey Theo, put on some music would ya?”
“Oh music. Good idea. How about Metallica?”
“You ok with Slayer?”
“Whatever motivates you, baby.”

I, of course, had no idea that what was really driving CJ was that he wanted to be capable of sliding a ring on my finger when I said ‘yes’.

________________________________________
Captions are fictional. Photo came from here.

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sadisticazazel:

“You’re safe now, boy. I’ve got you.”

“You’re safe now, boy. I’ve got you.”
Seamus hiccuped and let his forehead rest on his big, strong boyfriend’s shoulder. “Why is my mother so mean to me, Jo?” he whispered.
“Because she can’t ruin you too.”
“…What? What do you mean?”
“Your mother has always been a petty, jealous, narcissitic woman, Seamus. I know she went through some tough stuff, but instead of using that as a challenge to overcome she just let it eat her up inside. She blames everyone else for her imperfect life, although she never tried to fix it or better herself. Does that sound right?”
Seamus niffled and nodded. “Yeah, it does,” he said sadly. “Everything I did growing up had to be about her in some way. ‘You want to do tennis? Do you want everyone in town to think I’m some preppy tennis mom when I’m obviously not? We’re eating Spaghetti-os here! I work so hard around here and you just want to take advantage of money I don’t have. There are things I want too, Seamus…’ blablabla…in that screechy voice too.”
Jo sighed softly. “I know it was hard for you, baby. But she’s so mad she couldn’t ruin you too. That she couldn’t drag you down, beat out your spirit, defeat you. She wants you to be more miserable than she is, so she can feel better than someone. And you won’t let her. All you do is succeed and win at life.”
“You mean it?” Seamus asked, looking up at his lover.
“I do. You got straight As, got a scholarship to college, graduated with top honors, got a job offer right out of school at that awesome fashion company you loved… baby, you’re killing it.”
“Plus I have a hot boyfriend,” Seamus joked.
“That you do,” Jo replied, kissing Seamus on the forehead again.

Seamus hiccuped. “Still, despite everything, I want my mother to love me. It just hurts to think she will never love me like I want her to.”
“Oh honey, don’t cry,” Jo said in a soothing voice, pushing those tears away with the pad of his thumb. “It’s ok. You don’t need it. Hell, she doesn’t deserve your love. She had the chance and she squandered it. I don’t think you should give her another chance. I wouldn’t.”
Seamus sniffled and tightened his arms around Jo. “You know, I just realized, how you must feel.”
“Me?” Jo responded, surprised.
“Yes. You were so considerate when you were dating me, always being so proactive about winning me over. Always doing little things for me. I made you earn my love and made you wait before I gave it, but I turn around and just throw it at my mother who doesn’t even cherish it. God I’m so stupid.”
“No no, honey, no,” Jo said firmly. “Familial love is different. It’s deeper. I’m grateful you have let me into your life, but we were strangers once. It’s different.”
Seamus didn’t appear to have heard him. “I should be focusing on who wants my love and who cherishes it. You. You deserve it. I want to give it to you instead. Not her. But still, why do I still feel guilty at the idea of cutting my mother off?”
Jo was ready with an answer. “Because you still think that if you do one thing – say something, do something, become something, she will love you. Or maybe, that something will happen to her, and she’ll change.”

Seamus exhaled softly, his shoulder’s sagging. “Yeah…I think that’s it.”
“Honey, nothing you do will be good enough for her. You could become straight, cure cancer, become the President, marry an actress, win the lottery, and buy your mom a house and a car, and she will still make you feel bad, tear you down, doubt yourself, and try to make it all about her.”
Seamus lifted his tear-stained face. “Oh my god, you’re right. You’re so right. I mean, I will never not be the ‘stupid faggot’ she hates that I am, so there’s no hope for the rest. I sure as hell won’t be curing cancer, and I haven’t even dreamed of giving up my awesome job to try and please her.”
Jo beamed. “That’s my smart boy. And you’re following her on Facebook right? If something bad happens, you’ll hear about it from someone and we can talk about it then.”
Seamus nodded. Jo pinched Seamus’s chin with his finger. “Your life is here. With me, and my love. Can I have your phone?”
Seamus furrowed his brow, pulled it out of his pocket, and held it over. Jo fussed with it and handed it back. 
“What did you do?”
“Look in your contacts.”
Seamus did. Under where it used to say ‘Mom” it now said, “Janet. Do not answer.”
“Janet…” Seamus said. 
“Just another name on the list now. Besides, if you want a mother figure, you can borrow one of mine. I have two, remember, and god they will mother you to pieces if you let them.”
“…Really? They would?”
“Oh yeah. By the way, why don’t we ask them if we can go visit them out in New Mexico for a weekend?”
Seamus perked up. “I’d like that. I think I’m just sort of missing having a family right now.”
“I understand, sweet boy. You can start with me, and mine, and one day we’ll make our family.”
“Like…with kids?” Seamus asked shyly.
“One day,” Jo responded. “But we have to get married first.”
Seamus blushed and tucked his head against Jo’s pectoral again. “I’d like that.”
Jo tried not to grin as widely as he was. “So would I. But I would to propose to you proper first. I’ll get my grandmother’s ring from Mama Sue when we go visit ok?”
“Oh Jo, you are so wonderful to me,” Seamus said.
“This is what love is supposed to be like, Seamus.”

Seamus started to answer when his phone rang. A dark look crossed his face when he looked at the screen. “It’s M… ..It’s Janet.” Jo didn’t say anything as Seamus studied the phone. It rang and rang. He thumbed it to mute, and stuck it in his pocket. “I don’t want to talk to Janet right now. I want to talk about this trip.”

Jo cheered. “Yah! That’s my boy.” He kissed Seamus hard and made him giggle. “You wanna go get pizza and ice cream for dinner?”
“Oh hell yes. …Can we have hot sex on the sofa when we get back?”
Jo gave his lover a smoldering smirk. “Seamus baby, the answer to that question will never be no.”

_________________
Text is fictional.

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cosmicroo:

PupperRoo waiting for Boss to come homes from work and gives me Scritches

Ruffie was so nervous and excited waiting for his Master to come home that he thought he might pee himself when it finally happens. It wasn’t like he could get himself out of his rubber with his hands in mitts anyway, but Master would be really disappointed to come home and find that his puppy had made a mess. He wanted to be a good boy. Ruffie sighed and forced himself to lie down, and returned to chewing on his Master’s old leather sandal. 

He’d spent the day exploring his Master’s apartment and this was his new favorite thing. It was leather, the smell of which always made him horny, plus it had the scent of his Master’s feet and sweat, which made Ruffie yearn for the man who wasn’t here. He would be soon. Ruffie was not used to waiting hours and enjoying every second of it. He was still high off the reality of being ‘adopted’. It was a program run through his local dungeon where Masters can “check out” pups for short periods. Ruffie was thrilled when his Master had asked to “adopt” him over a three day weekend. Their sessions together made him fly and he always felt like whimpering when Master had to leave. Now they not only had a weekened together, but a long one at that. Friday through Monday. That meant Ruffie would get to greet his Master when he came home from work for one day.

Then, Ruffie heard a noise. A close noise. A noise of a key jostling in the keyhole. Ruffie jumped up to all fours and dropped the drooled on sandal. Ruffie sat by the door and wagged his butt so hard he nearly fell over.
“Ruuuufffiiiee is that you?” said the deep, velvety voice
Ruffie put his paws up on the door and responded.

“BARK BARK BARK!” came the excited reply.
Master chuckled. The lock turned. “Shh. You’ll alert the neigh-” He pushed the door open, not realizing Ruffie was sitting an inch from it on the other side, and hit him smack in the face.
Ruffie yelped out.
“Oh shit! Did I hit you? Aw shit, puppy! I’m so sorry!” Master Keene gently opened the rest of the door enough to squeeze in and quickly shut it behind him. His pup was sitting a short distance away, paws over his mask and whimpering loudly.
“Oh no, Ruffie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were right behind the door! Are you ok?” Master Keene squatted next to his boy. “Shh it’s ok, let me see.” He felt absolutely horrible when he saw tears in his boy’s eyes – and even worse when he saw blood on the floor. “Oh my god, Rafael, what did I do to you?”   

Master Keene quickly worked the buckles and removed the mask. “Shit your nose is bleeding. Oh look at the red mark, I hit you right on the bridge here huh? God, I’m so sorry, boy.”
Ruffie sniffled and whined. To his surprise, the injury hadn’t taken him out of headspace at all. He licked Keene’s hand and whined. 
“It’s ok baby. Here, I’m going to get you a tissue and some ice.”

It took a few minutes to get the bleeding stopped, and even Master Keene had to laugh when he saw his pup with cotton sticking out of his nose. Master Keene made Ruffie chew a Tylenol and sit in his bed with ice on his nose for a few minutes while he cleaned off the mask and dried it.  

When the worse had passed, Master Keene put the mask back on, but not before getting a lot of licks.
“Some welcome home huh? I’m sorry I spoiled it.”
Ruffie barked and headbutted his Master’s shouder, indicating it was all ok.
Master Keene smiled and scritched Ruffie at the base of his spine. The pup groaned and flopped to the side, kicking his foot.
“Ok that’s adorable,” Master Keene noted. “You’re a good boy huh?”
“Arf!”
“Such a good boy, yesh you are.” 
“Arf arf!”
Master Keene gave his flank a few pats. “Did you miss me?”
Ruffie nodded.
“I missed you too. I couldn’t wait to come home to your cute face. It gets so lonely here on the weekends. Damn, we’re gonna have a lot of fun together. Speaking of which, I think you deserve a treat huh? As an apology for bonking you?”

Ruffie quickly forgot about the pain when he saw the big bag of brownie bites. He decided that he going to play the sympathy card and try to get away with as much as possible… he had a feeling the bites would disappear once Master Keene found the sandal. 

___________________________
Text is fictional. Source is above. 

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Scott heard rustling in the carpet of leaves trailing out of the woods behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, there you are.”
“You came,” Aaron said, looking pleased, despite his tired and red eyes.
“Yeah. I came here right from school.”
“This late?”
“I got detention,” Scott explained.
Aaron shook his head. “Always getting into trouble.”
“I can’t help it. I like to paint things.”
“Just not paper?”
“Not always.”
Aaron sat next to him, rigid. Scott put an arm around Aaron and pulled him against his chest. The boy immediately snuggled into him.
“You ok?” Scott asked.
“Yeah. Just…my dad, ya know. The Packers lost, so it’s worse.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m sorry he’s such a mean drunk.”
There was a moment of silence.
“My mom suspects things,” Aaron said softly.
“Us?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that bad?” Scott replied.
“Only if my dad finds out.”
Scott looked down. “I won’t let you get in trouble because of me. I’m going to ask my mom if you can come stay with us for a while.”
Aaron jerked his head up. “What?”
“…I overheard the teachers talking to your mom on the phone,” Scott admitted, “They said your grades are slipping.”
Aaron said nothing.
“Besides, I wouldn’t mind having you in my house.”
“Wouldn’t people figure out sooner that we’re…..you know.”
“So what? If your dad can’t get to you, who cares? I’d rather be open and happy than quiet and miserable.”
Aaron didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the neighborhood sprawl below them and listened to Scott’s heart beat in his chest. Scott, always the contrarian, the rebel. Scott the rock.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” Scott repeated.
“Yeah, ask her,” Aaron clarified.
“Ok, I will.” Scott ruffled Aaron’s hair. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be ok.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Scott kissed the top of his head, “It will.”

___________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. I had some trouble tracking the source. The original image is in color and used as a still in this Youtube video to solicit funds for a film narrative about homeless LGBT youth called Hooked. I think it’s actually a still from the promotional material, and not just yanked from elsewhere. If you want to support the project, the IndieGogo page is here.

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jeanbaptistehuong:

© JBH/BVD-2014 – Paris (France)

Bastien

http://instagram.com/baronnedeneuve

https://vimeo.com/user6983854

Thắng returns from his errand to the post office and frowns when he walks into the house. His husband is sitting in front of the muted TV, cheeks tear-stained. He’s never left for work. Hugh loves his job and hates missing a day. 
“Honey?”

Thắng

says softly. “Are you ok?”
Hugh shakes his head and exhales softly. “No.”

Thắng

glances at the TV. The news was playing. “Is this about what happened in Paris last night?”
Hugh nods.

Thắng

sits next to Hugh and brings the tissue box. Hugh appreciates it, and after blowing his nose, reaches for

Thắng’s hang.

Thắng

squeezes it tight. 
“I was just so stunned last night. Paris is just right across the Channel from us. It just didn’t seem real you know? I went to bed thinking I’d wake up and it was all a bad dream.”
“But it wasn’t,”

Thắng

says softly.

Hugh is quiet for a minute. “Marcie and her boyfriend where there on vacation. Her boyfriend didn’t make it. He was at the cafe.”

Thắng

gasps softly. “The blond she was dating?”
Hugh nods softly and pushes tears out of his eyes again. “Marcie was injured but she’s fine. Physically, at least. I saw her post on Facebook.” 

Thắng

tries to think of something to say but Hugh keeps going.
“It’s just so stupid! It’s just so pointless, so senseless! I mean – why? What does ruining her life have to do with racial Islamic extremist goals? I don’t understand. And the more I think about it, the more sick I feel,

Thắng. And I feel so selfish, cause all I can think right now is if I lost you.”
“Oh honey,”

Thắng

says helplessly, pulling Hugh into his lap in an awkward hug. “But that didn’t happen. You’re here. I am here. It’s a beautiful day here in Manchester. You can’t think of the what-ifs or you’ll go crazy.”
“I feel so helpless. Do we have any control over our lives? Or is each day a miracle that we don’t die in such random accidents?” Hugh sniffles and rubs at his eyes with a tissue.
“Maybe. I think we get into small accidents all the time, but we are incredible survivors. The chance of being killed in something severe has to be so low. I mean – we survived birth. That’s the hardest test to pass isn’t it? 
Hugh shrugs.
“If we lived in fear of horrible things happening all day then we wouldn’t live our lives at all right? I mean you have a much higher chance of dying in a car crash, but that doesn’t stop you from hesitating to get into yours does it?”
Hugh sniffles and released a ragged breath. “I guess not.”
“And no matter how safe of a driver you are, it does nothing to prevent someone from senselessly plows into you. The best thing you can do is just be safe every day and be grateful for what you have, and accept what is out of your control. That’s all you can do. Some things are just out of our control.”
“I’m so sad for Marcie,” Hugh replies. “I don’t know if she’d be comforted by those same words.”
“The guilt over the what-ifs will be hard. Nothing will take that pain away. Only time will lessen it. Supporting her and letting her know she’s not alone in her grief is the best comfort we can give her.”
“I feel silly crying for a man I barely even knew.”

Thắng

clucks. “I’m sure his family wouldn’t feel that way. Also, I think, part of you is mourning for Paris too.”
Hugh snuggles against his husband and sighs. “I love you so much. If anything happens to us, I want you to know that. Even when we have fights and I hate you for two seconds, I still love you.”
“I love you too, Hugh.”
“Can we do something for Marcie? or her boyfriend’s family?”
“I think that’s a very nice thought, Hugh. Let me go talk to her on Facebook and I’ll see what I can do ok?”
Hugh nods. “I think I’m going to go back to bed. I’m exhausted. I was up all night watching the news.”

Thắng looks surprised. “You were?”
“Yeah. I got up after you went to bed. I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking of the bombings in Beirut and the people in Paris. The death toll kept going up and up…”
“But it’s not going up anymore,” Thắng reminds. “The healing process begins now, right? These terrorists want us to live in the present, fear. The most defiant thing we can do is keep moving forward.”
Hugh gives Thắng a loving look. “You are an amazing person for being so positive in a time like this.”

Thắng kisses Hugh on the temple. “I’m just a regular person, Hugh.”
“Just a strong one.”
“I wasn’t always this way. Growing older has taught me a lot of things. So has being married to you,” Thắng answers.
“Good things?”
“Yes.”
Hugh squeezes Thắng’s hand. “I like being married to you too. Can you help me up? My foot’s asleep.”

Thắng helps Hugh to his feet and he shakes his foot awake.

Thắng guides Hugh to the bedroom and puts his husband back to bed. 

Once tucked away,

Thắng walks back to the living room, sits in front of the TV, and unmutes the news. In only a few minutes he begins to cry. Hugh was right, it wasn’t fair, and

Thắng would go insane if he lost him. All they could do was acknowledge their luck and keep moving forward.

Thắng

brushes the tears off his cheeks and reaches for his laptop. Moving forward and helping others will make the healing process go faster.

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The text is 100% fictional. I felt like writing something in response to the attacks on Paris last week. Source of the photo is listed above.

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“Hi there, Gideon. How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” he said, matter of factly through clenched teeth.
“Can you tell me where it hurts?”
Gideon pointed to his side. “Hurts real bad.”
“Alright, that’s steady then. Nurse Mendez’s preliminary evaluation points to possible swollen appendix. We are going to do an ultrasound to confirm.”
“Like…I’m pregnant? I’m not pregnant. I’m a dude.”
I glanced at Nurse Mendez who is smiling at me.
“I see Nurse Mendez is already giving you a taste of some pain killer.“
“It’s …nice,” Gideon agreed. 
I checked his vitals while he relaxes. “Blood pressure’s good, Let’s get the tech in here.”
Gideon looked at me. “Hey.”
“Yes?” I asked, making notes.
“You are really hot.”
Nurse Mendez smothered a laugh.
I felt my cheeks grow warm. “Me or Miss Mendez here?”
“You,” Gideon insisted. “Like the pain goes away the more I realize it…damn you are really hot.”
“Thank you Gideon,” I said, trying to polite. “Let’s focus on your medical care ok?”
“Mm you can be my doctor any day.”
Nurse Mendez giggles. “Aw cute, you made a new friend.”
Gideon continued. “I’m gay you know, so I am a good judge of these things.”
“Nice to know you’re feeling better,” I said.
“Hey. Since I’m here and like naked under his gown, you should check to make sure everything down there works.”
Nurse Mendez had to leave she’s laughing so hard.
“Gideon, we’re here to treat your appendix.”
“Mm you can treat me any time,” Gideon slurred. 

The pain medication made him doze off and we were able to get an ultrasound. His appendix looked like shit, so we rushed him into the OR. Normally I don’t follow up with patients for operations that simple, but Nurse Mendez told me that Gideon was asking.

When I walked into his unit in intensive care, Gideon lit up. “Hey, it’s the hot doctor.”
I blushed. “You are clearly feeling better, Gideon.”
Gideon gave me a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry if I was kind of inappropriate with you. I get that way when I’m drunk too.”
I check his vitals while we chat. “Well you gave the nurses plenty to tease me about for the next year.”
Gideon laughed, a beautiful sound. “Well…you are hot. I can’t stop thinking about you. I was being obnoxious and you were being so kind to me.”
“A lot of times, patients that come in here are sick and being sick makes them act in different ways,” I responded. “You learn to focus on taking care of them and not making it personal.”
Gideon plucked at his blanket. “What if I wanted to make it personal?”
I tilted my head. “I make it a policy not to date patients.” For some reason the words came with a hesitation and a bit of regret. 
“Well….I’m getting discharged this afternoon. I won’t be a patient then. I mean, if I happened to bump into you in let’s say a bar somewhere-”
I laughed. “A bar? You just had major internal surgery. Are you really feeling that much better?”
Gideon beamed. “Yeah, I feel amazing. A bit sore, but amazing. My appendix had been bothering me for a few days before I came in.”
I stared. “Why did you wait?”
“Cause I thought it was a stomach ache…my roommate is into an Indian food kick and oh my god, it’s so spicy.”
“Is that so?” I asked, amused.
“…Do you like Indian food?” Gideon asked.
I was impressed by his persistence. I tucked my pen in my pocket. “I really like curry.”
Gideon lit up. “There’s a great Japanese curry place like three blocks from my apartment…”
I shook my head. “You don’t give up don’t you?”
Gideon chuckled. “Nope. I’m not letting you slip away.”

I’m not really sure why I gave him my phone number or why we played phone tag for the next few days. However, it was a good thing we did. I was able to detect that Gideon’s incision was infected and got him to go back to the hospital right away. 

I of course, had to go visit him in intensive care.
“My my Gideon, did you miss us at Royal Medical so badly?”
Gideon grinned. “I got impatient waiting for a curry date.”
I peeked at his incision site. “Oof, that is angry looking. We’re gonna get you on intravenous anti-biotics pretty quick here.”
“Are you going to be my doctor again…?” he asked, hopeful.
“Yes, Gideon, I will.”
“Good,” he said. “Then I know I’m in good hands.”
I gazed down at Gideon’s angelic face. “You need to get better soon or I’m going to get curry without you.”
He tried to sit up and I kept him down. “Stay down Gideon.”
Gideon slouched back. “Really? You mean it? Oh come on, now you’re teasing me cause I can’t leave the hospital!”
“You’re the one with an infection, not me,” I pointed out. “Blame it.”
Gideon smirked. “You could still do a testicular inspection on me to kill time.”
I choked on my spit and coughed. “Randy little thing aren’t you?”
Gideon laughed. “You are so fun to get a rise out of.” The nurses came in and our conversation got interrupted. 

It was another five weeks before Gideon was well enough to get curry with me, and he was right, it was damn tasty. But the company was even better. 

Gideon looked much more attractive cleaned up, in regular clothes. I found myself drawn to his brash, forward behavior…attracted enough where I wanted to see him again. And again. And then he spent the night. 

Now every morning, I see the scar on his abdomen and stroke it with my finger. I promise myself he will never end up in my ER again. I know I’m powerless to stop that, but some part of me wants to believe that Gideon has paid his dues to

Asclepius

and now he is mine forever.

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Text is fictional. Picture is a stock image but I couldn’t find the source. The picture was hosted on ABC news’s website.

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“Aaand there. All done. Fresh and clean.”
I watched fondly as Dion smoothed the edges of the bandage. I couldn’t help but give him a little smile. “Thank you for changing that out. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Yeah it was pretty gross,” he admitted. “The infection is going away though. What matters is that your leg is gonna be fine right?”
“Yep. The doctor said the surgery went well. I should be able to ski next season. That is, if I don’t get into another car accident, of course.”
“Good,” Dion said, running his fingers over my thigh. “Does it hurt?”
I nodded. “I’ve been cutting back on the pills cause I’m scared of getting addicted to them.”
“Where does it hurt?”
I tore my eyes away from watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I wondered how he shaved so close. I was always scruffy. “Um. It hurts here.” I pointed to the middle of the bandage.
I felt all the air rush out of my lungs when he bent over and placed a most delicate kiss against it. “Better?” he purred.

“Y-yes,” I said. “Also here.” I pointed to a spot on my thigh where a thick scab had formed. I was in my underwear, putting my legs on full display.
“Mmm.” Dion kissed it too.“
“And… here, on my hip, where it’s bruised.”
“Poor baby.” I tried not to gasp as his soft lips brushed my pelvis. He was so close to my crotch, that it was exciting me. I had no idea what sort of game he was playing. Dion was my best friend, but after my accident, he had been there for more than anyone else. He was the one holding my hand when I woke up in the hospital.
“And … here.” I pointed to my sternum, where the air bag had hit it. Dion pulled himself up towards me to reach it. He was so close now I could smell his shampoo. My heart was racing. The air felt thicker, warmer, and it wasn’t just because we were in Vermont, in June.
“Anywhere else?” he asked, his voice raspy. I never noticed before that he had little flecks of gold in his eyes.
“Yeah…” I murmured. “Here.” I placed the tip of my finger on my tongue, hoping, praying, he would take it this far.

Dion gazed at me, looking for answers in my face. I must have looked pitiful and desperate for his attention, all banged up and needy.
“There? What hurts there?” he said in a teasing tone of voice.
“I bit it this morning, eating breakfast.”
He chuckled, a low, velvety bass note. “You really are helpless without me to fix everything aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Here?” he asked, sliding his finger against my tongue. “Oh I feel a bump.”
I reached up and grabbed his wrist as vertigo swallowed me up. This was becoming too much, this close intimacy. It was going all too fast. “Dion-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make that feel better too.”
Before I could protest, he dipped his head and pushed his full lips against mine. My jaw muscles clenched to kiss him back hard, then slackened so I could open my mouth and let him in. He rubbed his tongue against mine, kissing me so deeply he stole all the air right out of my lungs. I moaned, and released his retreating wrist so I could cup his cheek.
“Dion,” I gasped between his assaults. He spilled his pent up emotions into me. He was finally allowing himself to taste me and have me after no doubt telling himself for weeks that I was “only a friend”. I felt something nudge against my other thigh and I realized a moment later what it was. Dion was erect and jutting forward. He was wearing thin sweatpants over his jockstrap, I would later discover, and it betrayed him entirely. I resisted rising up underneath him to grind against him, as I was also full of need.
He broke the kiss, and he hovered over me, panting. “Wow,” was all he said. “You feel better?”
“Y-yeah. Better than any pill the doctors gave me.”
“Good.” He began to nuzzle my jaw, not minding the scratchy stubble. “D-…Dion?”
“Yeah?” he said, sounding distant and hazy.
“I have another problem now.”
“Hm?”
“Down there…between my legs. It’s a bit hot, and it hurts a little, because it’s so tight.”
Without even hesitating, Dion reached down and placed his palm over my cock trapped in my underwear. I inhaled, making a rather unsexy sounding choking noise. “Dion!”
“Yeah, that is definitely a problem. Mmn…wow you are really hard. You’re big when you’re hard. Can I…can I touch you, in your underwear? I’ve never gotten to play with a guy before. I’ve always…always wanted to.”
“Ooooh yeah, you can. You’ve done such a good job of taking care of me. I wouldn’t deny you anything.”
“Would you play with mine?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I’ll reward you for everything,” I rasped, unsure if this was really happening.
“Good,” he sighed, petting me. I whimpered. Dion took that as an invitation to kiss me back.This time, I could not resist the urge to frot up against him, and to my sheer delight, Dion squeeze my shaft and rubbed his own against my crotch. My vision began to swim, and my heart thudded in my chest as my dormant sex drive awake. Then, Dion pressed his weight on top of me and the edges of reality began to unravel.

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Text is fictional.

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I hear the door close, then silence. “Honey is that you?” I ask, sticking my head out from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “I’m home. Jesus, what a day. This just won’t end. It just won’t end.”
I furrow my brow and come out to greet him. The kiss is cold from the spring chill and his eyes are not seeing me. I cup his cheek. “Are you really alright? You’re in shock.”
Laurent runs his fingers through his shoulder-length auburn hair. “I can’t feel anything. I’m totally numb. Last week I found out I’m likely losing my job in the merger. Found out today my dad has cancer, and someone’s been using my credit card without my permission… just one thing after another. ” I help Laurent off with his coat. “I can’t even remember leaving the office and getting here…”

“My poor Laurent.” I put an arm around his shoulders. Despite his strong build, he feels fragile and unsteady. “Come to the kitchen, you need to sit down.”  My boyfriend just grunts and lets me lead him.

I sit him down in a kitchen chair and put a glass of strawberry milk in front of him. “Here,” I say.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Your drink, to wash this down.” I fetch the plate off the counter and hold it in front of him.

Laurent stares at it, blankly. “How did you…”
“Your mother told me,” I answer. “I called her today, because I was worried about you. She said when you were little and having a bad time at things, she would make you Happy Cake so you’d feel better. She told you the sprinkles were made of real, dried rainbows and they were medicine that only works on children. So…how did I do?”
Lauren takes the plate and cups it in his hands, as if shielding it from his shitty week. “It’s beautiful, Alain. I forgot how pretty the colors were. You know, I used to ask my mother what flavor the cake was and she said ‘sun flavored’. I thought vanilla was ‘sun flavored’ for years,” he chuckles. “Jesus, it’s just perfect.” Laurent lowers the plate to the table and picks up his fork, but he hesitates to molest it.

I put my hand over his other hand, loosely curled on the table. “Laurent.” Our eyes meet. “Everything is to be ok. We’ll know more on Monday about your father’s cancer, but the doctor was optimistic wasn’t he? And the credit card company froze your card right? The assets are protected. About your job, well, maybe you’ll find another job you’ll love even more. You still have me too, no matter what happens.”

Laurent swallows, hard, and he tries to make some words come out but his throat is too tight. I pat his arm and nod understandably. I get up to get my own piece of cake, and we sit there in calm silence and eat.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Laurent methodically carves up his dessert and eats every bite in his usual fastidious manner. When every crumb has been collected and every sip of milk is gone, Laurent sets his fork on his empty plate and dabs his mouth with a napkin.

“Alain?” Laurent asks. He has a slight accent from his childhood in the south of France and I love how he says my name.
“Yes?” I reply.
“Would you like to go upstairs and make love?”
The tone in his voice makes the hairs go up on the back of my neck. He didn’t say ‘fuck’ or ‘have sex’, he said make love. “You’re up for that?” I reply, cautious.
Laurent nods. “I…I need it. I need you. I feel like my emotions, my feelings, are all backed up and I can’t hit unpause. You are so kind to me, so loving, that when we’re together I just dissolve and drift into pieces like foam on the sea. I need that. I need you to unravel me or I’m going to break.”
I can see the pain on Laurent’s face, clear as day. He needs to cry, but he can’t. I finish my last bite of cake and drain my milk. “I would love that. I’ll put on the heater, make it warm. You go get ready, I’ll make us some tea.”
“Tea. Yes. Good idea.” Laurent pushes away from the table and shuffles to the bedroom like a zombie.

Later, when the sheets are stained and I am blessedly tingling all over, I rock Laurent as he sobs into my arms. Change scares him. Losing his father, his best friend, before we have children, scares him. Financial instability scares him. In one week, everything he could count on to be stable has crumbled. Eventually he collapses into exhausted sleep around me, and I tuck him into bed.

The next morning, when I wake up, Laurent is already sitting up and gazing out the window. It’s kind of hard to see his face as the sun pours over the bed.
“Laurent…?” I say softly.
To my cautious delight, he smiles. “Look. It rained last night, and it’s just beautiful today. Come here, to this side of the bed – watch the mess now – look! Can you see it? There’s a rainbow over those hills.”
“Yeah – yeah I see it. Wow, Laurent. It’s a beauty.” I slide my fingers into his, interlocking them, and we share it together.

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Text is fictional. This is not the first time I’ve made a post with just a picture of cake, lol. Pic is watermarked for ownership.

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undiefangallery:

How adorable is this?!

I listen to him cough and hack. I rub his stomach and he groans. “I’ve been taking medication, why won’t the coughing stop? My muscles are so sore,” Per laments.
“Oh you’re awake. My poor baby, you can’t even nap. I’m sorry cleaning out my mom’s attic gave you bronchitis.”
“It’s not your fault. It was fun, and I love your mom.”
I chuckle. “She loves you too.”
He interrupts in another coughing fit. I wipe away the tears from his eyes. Per breathes slow and hard. “Ow,” he whimpers.
I pat his back. “There there.”
Per sighs. “What are you doing in bed with me anyway? Isn’t bronchitis contagious?”
“I’ll take my chances. Besides, you’re helpless, vulnerable, and also shirtless. You’re also stuck, and weakened, unable to fight me off. So, the cuddle monster got you.”
He chuffs. “Is that so?”
“Yess. You are stuck. You are so damn active all the time that you rarely sit still long enough for me to cuddle the hell out of you. So, I’m getting my time in now.”
Per thinks. “Yeah that’s true. Half the time we spoon at night, we either fall asleep right after or end up fucking.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Ha! No, that’s a very good thing. Matter of fact, when I get better, the first thing I’m gonna do is make up on all that sex we’re missing.”
“Are you now?” I ask, intrigued.
“Hell yeah. But maybe somewhere other than the bed. I’m gonna be sick of spending the day in bed by then.”
“Maybe outside? In a nice meadow somewhere? On a picnic?”
Per stretches, then curls again. “That’s a nice idea. I’ll ask my brother if we can borrow his horses and may–” his lungs seize and he begins hacking again. I comfort him as he spits into a tissue. “Uuughhhh…”
“My poor Per. Why don’t I draw you a hot bath? It might help loosen up all that crap in there.”
“A bath?…That sounds really wonderful actually. Will you bathe me?”
I pause. “Why is that idea so hot?”
Per suppresses a cough. “I dunno. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a King for a day though.”
I swat him on the shoulder. “Just because you have a Prince Albert, it doesn’t make you royalty.” I feel his body tremble with laughter, but that triggers another fit and I assure him through it.
“I miss having normal conversations that aren’t interrupted,” Per grumps.
“Ok, big boy. Let’s get you into the bath.”
“Can I have a cup of chocolate milk too?”
“Anything you want.” I kiss him on the same spot I swatted.
“Alright, get me up.”
I sit up and coax him upright. “Which part up?” I tease.
“Uh, both please?”
“Want me to jerk you off in the bath too?”
Per twists around to look at me. “That’s an option too?”
“Yep, as long as it doesn’t make you cough too much.”
He blinks. “I need to get sick more often.”

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Text is fictional. Per is a Swedish name.