Date: Thu, 21 Apr 2011 19:57:36 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerlar <jetdesk2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nurse and the Patient, Part 17

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  Additionally,
if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read
this story by law.
  This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.
  The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.

Mark Stevens



Nurse and the Patient, Part 17


	Jonathan was in a haze, almost like being in a dream of some
sort. He had no clue where he was at. All he knew for certain was that he
couldn't seem to breathe. The air was thick with smoke, and he could see
nothing. His body was sweating, and he could hear the flames as they ate
their way through wood. All around him he could hear glass as it heated up
and shattered. The smoke got thicker, the flames higher, and he knew it was
the end for him. There was no way out, and he was going to die.
	"I don't want to die!" he cried out.
	"Jon, it's okay. You're not going to die."
	Jonathan opened his eyes and looked around. "Where am I?"
	Lance was sitting beside him. "You're in the hospital, Babe. You're
going to be all right."
	"There was a fire."
	Lance reached over and placed a hand on Jonathan's arm. "There
was," he said. "We got you out in the nick of time."
	"What happened?"
	The door opened then and a nurse walked inside the room. It was
Ann, the nurse that worked with Jonathan.
	"I see our patient is awake," she greeted.
	She walked over to the bed. "Did you finally decide to wake up?"
	"Ann." Jonathan's voice cracked, and he didn't go on.
	Ann placed a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "I hope you realize just
how lucky you are," she told him. She looked over at Lance. "This guy his
has not left your side, not once."
	Jonathan looked at Lance and smiled. "I am lucky. God, I thought
I'd never see you again."
	"You're not going to get rid of me that easily," Lance grinned.
	"Seriously, how are you feeling?" Ann asked him again.
	"Other than my lungs feeling as if I was a heavy smoker, I guess
okay. My head still hurts like hell."
	"I can give you something for that," Ann told him. "I'll be right
back."
	"Has anyone called my mother?" Jonathan asked as Ann left the room.
	"Yes, and she has already been here. Doctor Todd was here, and he
told her you were going to be fine, that you just needed some rest. She's
coming back this evening."
	"How long have I been here?"
	"Close to twenty-four hours," Lance answered.
	"How--how did I escape?"
	"Let me tell you, there were enough people involved with helping
you escape you should go down in the book of world records," Lance told
him.
	"What happened?"
	"Not now, Jon. Todd said you had to rest, and that I was supposed
to do whatever it took to make that happen."
	Jonathan extended a hand out, and Lance enclosed his own, their
fingers becoming entwined.
	Jonathan said, "I really thought I wasn't going to make it, Lance."
	"You did make it. Like I told you, you couldn't get rid of me if
you tried."
	Ann returned then with a little paper cup containing a pill. She
handed it to Jonathan, along with a glass of water. "Here, take this," she
ordered.
	"I'm supposed to give this shit out, not take it myself," he
scowled at her.
	Ann turned to Lance and grinned. "See how he is?" she
grinned. "They say medical people make the worst patients."
	"Yeah, speak for yourself. I'm the model patient," he informed her.
	"Sure you are."
	Ann gave him a smile and said, "You rest now." She turned to
Lance. "See that he does," she ordered. "Remember what Dr. Todd told you."
	As Ann opened the door to leave, she was met by a little woman
carrying a vase of flowers.
       "Good, I'm glad you're here. He's been asking about you."
	"Yeah, well, he had better be asking about his mother. How dare he
scare the living hell out of me the way he did."
 	Jonathan looked around Ann and beamed. "Hey, Mom," he
greeted. "You're not going to start trouble are you?"
	Ann turned back and faced him. "Remember, I just gave you some
medicine. You need to relax and let it go to work."
	"Nag nag," he grinned.
	She shrugged her shoulders, gave Lois Davis a pat on the shoulder
and left the room.
	"So, Mom, how have you been?"
	Lois Davis marched over to the side of his bed. She handed the
flowers to Lance and said to her son, "I'll make you think `how have I
been'. Like I said, why did you scare the hell out of me? I'm too damned
old for shit like this."
	She reached down and planted a kiss on his forehead.
	"Trust me, Mom; I'm too damned old myself to go through shit like
this."
	Tears suddenly slid down her cheeks. "You are all right?"
	"I am, Mom," he assured her. "Just really worn out," he said.
	"I won't stay long. I just wanted to come back and see you. The
hospital called me after you woke up."
	"Must have been my boss, Ann that called," Jonathan told her.
	"It was. I was so relieved to hear you were awake."
	Lois soon ended her visit. She could tell the medicine was starting
to work on her son. He was getting sleeping, and she knew he needed to
rest.
	"I'll be leaving," she said. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised.
	"I hope to be home by then," Jonathan said sleepily.
	"That will be up to the doctor," she reminded him. "Good night."
	She stopped in front of Lance, and bending over, she planted a kiss
on his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.
	"You deserve the thanks," Lance told her. "If you hadn't brought
such a wonderful son into the world, I would never have fallen in love."
	"You do have a way with words, Lance Thompson. Good night."
	When they were alone in the room Jonathan said, "I'm so glad she
allowed me to meet you too," he said quietly. "I love you so much, Lance
Thompson."
	"And I love you. Now, get your ass to sleep. The sooner you get
well, the sooner I can take you home and fuck you like crazy."
	A slight smile formed on Jonathan's lips, and he closed his
eyes. Then opening them once more, he said, "You might try climbing up here
in this bed," he said. "I'm sure we could work something out. Well, perhaps
work it in," he added.
	Lance had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but when he started to
speak, he saw that Jonathan was already asleep. He watched the man as he
lay there in bed sleeping. He thought about the fire and how he had almost
lost Jonathan, and it was enough to make him sick to his stomach.
	Lance thought of his father, of that bitch, Agnes Doughty. The two
certainly deserved each other. From the way things looked, he didn't think
he would have to put up with any of their shit ever again.
	Lance suddenly felt his eye lids grow heavy, and he soon joined
Jonathan in the land of dreams.


<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<



	Jonathan was home again, rather, back at Lance's home. This time,
however, he was the one taking things easy. He was stretched out on the
couch in Lance's den, and as he looked across the room, he wondered just
how the hell he was going to tell the man he loved the things that was on
his mind; all that he had discovered.
	Lance wheeled himself over and stopped in front of the
couch. "You're awfully quiet," he said.
	Jonathan took a deep breath. "Just thinking how glad I am to be
back here with you."
	"Not nearly as glad as I am, I'm pretty damned sure."
	Jonathan seemed lost in thought for a moment. Finally he said, "You
say Tony came to the house and rescued me?"
	Lance nodded. "That's correct. He said you had called and asked him
to meet you there. Lucky for you he made it on time. Lucky for both of us,"
he added.
	"Oh, yeah, I remember now. I was in your father's house." Jonathan
looked sharply at Lance. "Have you heard anything from him? Your father, I
mean."
	Lance shook his head. "Not a damned word. Tony told me he couldn't
get hold of him."
	"How about Agnes Doughty, is she still around?"
	"Agnes? Why the hell would you ask about her?"
	Jonathan looked into Lance's eyes, and he tried to decide the best
way to tell him what he knew. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Lance, I need
to tell you something, and I think you should hear it first. It's only
right. First, though, bring me the telephone."
	Lance wheeled himself over and returned with the phone.
	Jonathan took it from him and punched in a number.
	"Hey, Tony," he greeted, "we need to talk soon."
	"Hey, Jon, it's so glad to hear your voice."
	"I owe you a huge debt of thanks, my friend. If you hadn't shown up
when you did, I doubt very seriously we would be having this conversation
now."
	Tony was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice sounded
as if it might crack. "I'm just glad things worked out the way they did."
	"Can you come over to Lance's this evening?"
	Tony assured him he would be there. "I have something to show you,"
he added.
	Jonathan finished his telephone conversation with Tony, and laying
the phone down, he said, "Lance, I have a lot of shit to drop on you, and I
think it only fair to give you heads up before Tony's visit this evening."
	Lance's voice sounded calm, almost too calm as he spoke. "I'm
listening."
	"God, I have no idea where to start."
	Lance reached out and touched him. "It's okay," he said trying to
assure Jon.
	"I'm not so sure about that,"
	"Lay it on me let me decide."
	"Lance, did you know Sam and Agnes were having an affair?"
	Sighing, Lance said, "Sort of."
	"Sort of?"
	"I was pretty sure of it."
	"It started years ago, when your mother was alive."
	"He's a real piece of shit, my father."
	"I don't think he was," Jonathan told him.
	Lance had a surprised look. "Was?"
	Jonathan took another deep breath. "Does the name Carter Wilson
mean anything to you, Lance?"
	Lance was thoughtful for a moment. "Wasn't he the man who was
killed in the same hunting accident my grandfather was?"
	Jonathan nodded. "That's right. He also worked for your
grandfather. He was his right hand man, or so I've been told."
	"I only remember hearing his name one time. I can't remember who,
but someone mentioned it in front of my mother, and she became very
upset. I think it bothered her because his name made her remember about my
grandfather and how he had died."
	"Lance, your birthday is in October, correct?"
	Lance nodded.
	"Sam and your mother were married in February, the same year you
were born, right?"
	"What are you getting at, Jonathan? Are you trying to say my father
got my mother pregnant before they were married?"
	Jonathan was silent.
	"Well, you're wrong! You are fucking wrong!"
	Jonathan felt so bad, so damned bad. He hated like hell to bring
this kind of hurt to not only his friend, but to the man he loved with all
his heart. He sighed and picked up the telephone once more.
	"Tony, can you do me a favor? If I call Edith Baxter and ask her to
come over this evening, would you mind bringing her with you?"
	"What are you doing?" Lanced asked.
	Jonathan looked at him and then spoke into the telephone. "Thanks,
I really would appreciate it."
	"Do you think she will come?" Tony asked.
	"I think she will. She thinks a lot of Lance."
	Lance asked, "What the fuck's going on here, Jonathan."
	"I just feel like I am doing a really bad job here. Edith has been
a great help to me, and I just think she will be the same help with you as
well."
	"She's told you my mother was already pregnant when she and my
father were married, I take it."
	"Just let me give Edith a call, please."
	Jonathan found his cell phone in the pocket of his robe and brought
it out. He scrolled down until he found a previous call he had made to
Edith Baxter. He punched redial.
	"Miss Baxter," he greeted, Terry Watkins here."
	"Mr. Watkins, how are you? I heard about the fire at the Thompson
home, and I wondered about you. Were you there working when it happened?"
	Jonathan told her he had been, and that he had made it safely
out. Then he asked if she would come over that evening with Tony Miller.
	"Whatever for?" she asked.
	"I would like to share with you what I have found out, and I am
pretty sure Lance would appreciate you being here as well."
	He was surprised that she didn't hesitate one bit. She told him she
would love to see Lance.
	Jonathan ended his phone conversation with Edith Baxter and gave
Tony another call. "She will come," he told him. "Just give her a call
about half an hour before you are ready to pick her up. Her request," he
added.
	"Jonathan, just spill it," Lance ordered.
	"Lance, I had the actual proof before the fire, but I am afraid
everything either burned up or was removed before hand. Your mother was
pregnant when she and Sam were married. However, Sam was not the one. Sam
Thompson is not your father, Lance."
	"What the fuck? Of course he's my father. I wish he weren't, but he
is."
	Jonathan shook his head. "That's one wish you're going to
get. Samuel Thompson is not your father. It seems your mother was in love
with someone else. Carter Wilson," he added softly.
	Lance shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.
	"I know you're confused, and I'm not helping you any. That's the
reason I asked Edith Baxter to come over with Tony. I think she will do a
much better job than me."
	Lance forced himself to take some deep breaths. He said, "Just tell
me what you found out. I'll try and piece it together later."
	"Carter Wilson came to work for your grandfather. Whether he knew
your mother before that or not, I'm not certain. I guess he became very
close to your grandfather, and it wasn't long until your grandfather had
made him something like his assistant. Also about that time, Sam Thompson
was hired to handle all of the legal affairs of the company. Also somewhere
around that time Agnes Doughty was hired as well. She latched onto Sam, and
together they hatched a plan to soon work their way into the heart of Smyth
Oil.
	"Also, I guess by that time it was no secret that your mother was
seeing Carter Wilson. They had been dating for a time, and announced they
were going to be married. The news of the approaching wedding was enough to
make Sam and Agnes step up their plans. Sam knew that your grandfather
always went deer hunting each fall. And he always took Carter Wilson with
him. Well, that year he somehow worked himself an invitation to go hunting
with them. He damaged the deer blind, and when both Carter and your
grandfather were up inside the blind, their weight broke it lose from the
stand. The fell about twenty feet, and both Ronald Smyth, and Carter
Wilson, your father, were killed."
	Jonathan stopped for a moment to let his words sink in. When Lance
remained silent, he went on. "Carter Wilson was your father, not Sam
Thompson. Sam just moved in for the prize after the accident. Your mother
had lost both men who meant the most to her, and she needed to reach out to
someone. Samuel Thompson just made sure he was the one she reached out to.
	Lance pounded the arms of his chair with his fist. "That son of a
bitch!"
	"Those words are too damned kind," Jonathan agreed.
	"Let's call the police."
	"What proof do we have?" Jonathan asked. "Everything was burned up
in the fire. About the only thing we can do is have a paternity test run on
Sam. I'm sure there are medical records on your mother, and between the
two, while you couldn't exactly prove Carter was your father, you could
determine Sam wasn't."
	"I'll do it," Lance said with a determined look on his
face. "Nothing else, I'll get his ass kicked out of the company."
	"Are you willing to run it? The company, I mean?"
	For a moment Lance looked as if he really thought he could. Then a
shadow fell across his face, and he said, "How can I?"
	"Easily," Jonathan assured him.
	"Yeah, right."
	"Lance Thompson, you listen to me, and you listen to me hard. You
are much more capable of running an oil company than Sam Thompson. Your
people skills alone are enough by far to make you qualified."
	"I don't know if I want to fight him. Sam, I mean."
	Jonathan was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "Why don't we
wait and see what Tony thinks of the idea? Also, let's see what Edith
Baxter has to say. She does think a lot of you."
	"She was a great old gal when she worked for the company. I loved
spending time at her desk when I was a kid."
	"From the sound of her voice earlier, I think she's looking forward
to seeing you after all this time."



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	When Tony Miller arrived that evening, along with Edith Baxter,
they were met at the door by Lance. When he swung the door back, he met the
two visitors with a warm smile.
	"Miss Baxter, it's such a pleasure seeing you again. You too," he
added giving Tony a grin. He invited them inside the house.
	Edith Baxter smiled warmly at the man in the wheel chair. "Lance
Thompson," she said softly. "How have you been?" She reached over and
hugged Lance lightly. "I have missed seeing you."
	"Please, come in, won't you?"
	Lance led the way back to the den where Jonathan was waiting. As
they entered the room, Edith caught her breath.
	Jonathan smiled at the woman. "Good evening, Miss Baxter," he
greeted.
	"Mr. Watkins, what a pleasant surprise." She turned to Lance and
said, "It looks as if you are being extra considerate, Lance, with
Mr. Watkins' situation. I take it he was in the house then when the fire
broke out?"
	"It's complicated, Edith," Lance told her.
	Jonathan moved over to one corner of the couch. He was no longer
wearing a robe. Instead, he had dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt. He
took a deep breath and spoke.
	"I'm going to try and explain everything to you, Edith. I only hope
you will forgive me for appearing to be something that I'm not. For
starters, I don't work for the company of Barnes, Taylor & Watkins. As far
as I know, that company doesn't exist. In the real world I am a nurse. I
became acquainted with Lance while he was in the hospital after his
accident. When he came home the hospital asked if I would be interested in
coming home with him. They realized he was going to need quite a bit of
assistance for a time. By the way, my name is Jonathan Davis, not Terry
Watkins."
	"I am not a person who appreciates being lied to," she said. There
was sharpness in her voice that caused Jonathan to shudder.
	"Don't be upset with Jonathan," Lance spoke up. "He did it for me,
because I asked him to."
	Edith looked from one to the other. A grin slowly appeared on her
face. "I can see how much you think of him," she said to Lance. "You love
him, don't you, Lance Thompson?"
	Lance's face held surprise, and before he could say anything, Edith
said, "Don't be coy with me, dear boy. I wasn't born yesterday."
	"You are right, Edith, Lance does love me," Jonathan said. "And I
love him, too," he added.
	Edith looked at Lance and said, "You deserve happiness. I don't
believe you have ever been happy have you?"
	Smiling warmly at Jonathan, he said, "I am happy now."
	For a moment silence surrounded the room. Then Jonathan spoke up
and said, "Edith, one of the reasons I asked you to come here this evening
is that I have discovered quite a few things concerning a lot of people;
things that I think you can back up, especially now that everything I found
was burned up in the fire.
	"I'm listening," she said.
	Jonathan retold all of the information, this time to Tony Miller
and Edith Baxter. When he had finished sometime later, he said, "Now, tell
me, Edith, do I have the facts correct?"
	Edith looked from Jonathan to Lance. Tears were slowly making their
way down her cheeks as she said, "You have done your homework well." She
laid a hand on Lance's shoulder. "I always thought you should know the
truth, Lance. Sam and Agnes knew how I felt. I think that's why they
literally pushed me out of the company. They didn't want me around. I
wasn't that old when I left," she added with a grin.
	"If Lance takes the company back over, would you be interested in
going back to work?" Tony asked.
	Edith Baxter laughed. When she did, her entire face changed, making
her look much younger than she could possibly be. "I'm flattered,
Mr. Miller. However, I think I would much rather spend whatever time I have
left on this earth enjoying the company of very good friends." She looked
around the room at each of them as she spoke.
	Tony stood to his feet. "If you will excuse me for a moment, there
is something in my car that I want to bring in and show you guys."
	He left the room and soon returned carrying a box. He sat it down
on the floor beside the couch.
	Jonathan's face turned white. "Where did you find that?"
	Tony smiled. "Well, `Terry', you may have been instrumental in
bringing all of this together, but I have a little surprise of my own."
	"What the hell is that?" Lance asked.
	"It's the answer to a prayer," Jonathan said quietly. He asked
Tony, "Where did you find it?"
	"I am pretty sure you weren't supposed to be the only one who
didn't survive that fire. In fact, I am sure of it. When I finally found
you, I discovered this on the floor beside Sam's desk. Someone and I think
we all know who, thought it would serve you right if you died with
everything you had been searching for close by."
	"Agnes Doughty," Edith said, speaking the words forcefully.
	Jonathan nodded. "You are right. However, I don't think Agnes was
alone in the house that day. She had help with her plan."
	"You think perhaps Sarah helped her?" Lance spoke the words
bitterly.
	Jonathan shook his head. "Who ever knocked me out as I was leaving
the store room had much more of a swing than any woman could possibly
manage."
	"I would imagine that Agnes had called Sam back into the picture,"
Tony said.
	"I agree," Jon said.
	Lance looked at the box on the floor. "I want to read what's
inside," he told them.
	"Are you going to call the police?" Edith asked.
	Lance sighed. "I would like to. I just don't know if I am up to the
fight. And you know, Edith, that I speak the truth. My father will fight
with everything he has to knock me down."
	"Samuel Thompson is not your father," Edith reminded him.
	"How well did you know Carter Wilson.?" Lance asked her.
	"You are so like him," she said. "What a difference the company
would have been if he had been allowed to live and eventually run it. He
had such a tender spirit. As did your mother in those days," she added.
	"She certainly must have changed," Lance said.
	"Unhappiness tends to do that," Edith reminded him. "When Carter
was alive, Kathleen went around with a sparkle in her eyes. I never saw her
when she didn't have the brightest of smiles on her face. I spoke with her
just before she married Sam Thompson, and I knew she was unhappy. She felt
as if she had no other choice but to marry Sam. Running a company as large
as Smyth Oil was just too much for a twenty year old child to take on."


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	It was late, and Jonathan and Lance were in the house alone. Tony
had left with Edith Baxter, but not before it was decided that the police
would be notified the next day. Tony took the box containing all of the
evidence with him to keep safe until they could show it to the police.
	Lance was already in bed when Jonathan joined him.
	"Are you all right?" Jon asked as he crawled in bed next to Lance.
	"I am now," he said.
	"I'm being serious."
	"It's been a lot to take in," Lance finally said.
	"Just know that I will help you in any way that I can."
	"Jonathan Davis, I already owe you my life, and in so many
different aspects. I could not have survived this without you."
	"I just hope I haven't brought more unhappiness into your life,"
Jon worried.
	"You have brought nothing but happiness to me."
	"At any rate, you are stuck with me," Jonathan said.
	Lance grinned at him. "I would love nothing better than to be stuck
with you and by you. I don't think you're up to it tonight."
	Jonathan reached over and gave one of Lance's nipples a
twist. "I'll be the judge of that."
	"Shit!"
	"Don't be such a whiny baby," Jonathan teased.
	Lance leaned over and took Jon into his arms. "You know you like it
when I whine," he said.
	"I like it better when you fuck me."
	"Perhaps that could be arranged."
	"Promises promises."
	Their lips touched and each felt the tongue of the other make its
way inside, searching, probing.
	"God, I love you, Jonathan Davis," Lance moaned.
	"I love you. When the smoke was so bad I could hardly breathe all I
could think of was that after finding you and loving you, I was going to
lose you. I could hardly"
 	"But that didn't happen," Lance interrupted him. "You didn't lose
me, and I didn't lose you. We're both here now, and we're going to live a
life time together."
	No more words were said as they surrounded themselves with their
love. As they shared a hot kiss followed by more of the same, their hands
moved rapidly, fingers touching hot skin with desire, cocks stretching
almost to the point of bursting and dripping like crazy, it seemed to them
as if the last couple of days had only been a bad dream, and now, they were
both fully awake.
	"Fuck me," Jonathan moaned. "I need to feel you inside me," he
added, desire sounding in his voice.
	"I do want to fuck you, so much."
	"Then do it," Jon ordered.
	He reached for the lube on the table beside the bed and tossed it
at Lance. Jon turned over on his side his ass offering up invitation to be
fucked.
	Lance quickly squeezed a thick glob of the gel into the palm of his
hand. He smeared some on a finger and rubbed it into Jonathan's crack. As
he worked it inside his opening, he felt the little hairs that surrounded
his hole tickle his finger as he pushed his way inside the opening.
	Jonathan moaned. "Yeah, fuck my ass," he pleaded.
	Lance coated his hard cock with the slick gel and placed the head
against the slippery entrance. He slowly worked himself inside until he was
buried to the hilt, his thick blond bush pressed tightly against Jonathan's
ass cheeks, his hairy balls up against the lower part of Jonathan's ass.
	"You feel so fucking good," Lance groaned.
	"Fuck me, Baby," Jon begged. "Plow my ass."
	Jonathan began to moan as he felt Lance slowly work his hard thick
cock back and forth, in and out of his wet ass. Between the slippery gel
and Lance's leaking cock, the friction was almost more than either one of
them could stand.
	Every time Lance plowed his ass, Jonathan's own cock became harder
and leaked more precum. Suddenly he cried out, "You're making me cum,
Lance. Oh, God!"
	Jonathan's cock shot its thick creamy load out, and with each rope
of cum that flew on the sheet, his ass would tighten all the more around
Lance's cock.
	After slamming Jon's ass a few more times, Lance was suddenly
thrown over the edge. He cried out in pleasure as he shot the first spurt
of cum deep inside Jonathan's hot wet ass.
	"Oh, fuck," Lance cried out.
	When he had finished shooting, he leaned over and pressed himself
as tightly as he could into Jon's body. His cock still buried deep inside
the cum filled hole, he reached around Jon and hugged him tightly.
	"God, I love you."
	"I love you, Lance Thompson. I am so looking forward to spending
the rest of my life with you."


End of Part 17