Date: Sun, 3 Jun 2001 13:19:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: Evan Bradley <EBradley33@excite.com>
Subject: Chapter 9 of "Ambush"

The following fictional story deals with sex among males.  If you are
offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is
not allowed, depart.  Though not always observed in this story, care enough
about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights.  No reproductions or links to other sites
are allowed without the author's consent.

EBradley33@Excite.com
                            Chapter 9
                    Shards, Remnants, and Connections

My eyes slowly opened to near darkness.  "How much longer can I sleep
before the alarm goes off," I wondered.  When I raised my head up to look
at the alarm clock, pain shot from my head down to my toes!  "Oh-h-h-h-
h-h-h," I moaned.  My head hurt like hell.  Pretty much everywhere else
did too.  I looked around the room.  It wasn't my bedroom.  Where was I?
How did I get here?

Being careful and moving my eyes slowly and my head only millimeters, I
could see a little bit more around me.  Rails up on a bed.  My arm taped to
a board.  Two IVs.  A third one with a dark liquid.  Something was around
my left leg, making it feel heavy.  Something was around my chest,
squeezing with every breath.  My throat and mouth were extremely dry.

Just then the door to the room quietly opened to admit a pants-suited
nurse.  She walked over to my bed, checked out a machine recording my
pulse and blood pressure, and started recording something on my chart.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Halsey?"

"Hurt.  A lot," I croaked.  "Drink?"

"Yes.  You were shocky when they found you, so they  gave you some
oxygen.  It dries out your throat."  She held the glass down by my head,
placing a straw in my mouth.  "Just a few sips at first."

The water felt great, tasted great.  "How . . . did I get here?"

"Do you mean who brought you here or what happened to you?  Do you
remember what happened to you?"

I looked at her while I searched my memory.  Nothing.  "No."

"You were found at the bottom of stairs in the high school.  You'd been
there a while.  I guess you teach there?"

I thought a moment.  "Yes."

"Do you remember falling down the stairs?"  I thought some more.
Suddenly the image of me flying through the air on my back looking back
at a shadowy figure filled my mental field.

Before thinking, I burst out, "I was pushed."

"Oh?"  She sounded as though she didn't believe me.  "Who was with
you?"

"Behind me.  Hands pushed me out hard.  I just saw a shadow . . . .How
badly am I hurt?"

You have a concussion.  We've been checking you for that on and off
tonight.  One of the bones in your lower left leg is fractured.  Probably
hit the edge of a stair.  We have a splint on it now.  I'm afraid you'll
be on crutches for a while.  You have a couple of cracked ribs.  We can't
figure out how you got a black eye.  The other eye has so many bruises
around it that it looks almost as bad.  Your face and head are quite
bruised.  We think you landed headfirst and then rolled head over heels
down the stairs.  The scalp on the back of your head was cut somehow,
which, along with a nosebleed, caused you to lose some blood."  She
chuckled.  "You looked a lot worse when they brought you into the
emergency room than you do now."

"How long have I been here?"

"It's 5:30 in the morning.  They brought you in last evening about 8:30.
Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Yes."

"Doctor said to give you something if you were.  I'll just be back with it."

She left the room, leaving me to think.  Did I have my glasses?  What
about my attache case?  My car?  Who was going to notify the school
about a substitute for my classes?  When was I getting out of the hospital?
Could I return to the classroom?  Who found me anyway?  How in the hell
much is this going to cost me?  Who hated me enough to hurt me like this?

She entered the room again, walking over to the IVs and injecting
something into the collection pod there.  "This will probably make you
sleep, but you need to rest anyway."

"Any idea how long I'll be in here?"

"Doctor will be in this morning and again late in the afternoon.  He can
tell you then."

I felt my eyes growing heavy.
                          ..............

Again, my eyes slowly opened.  My head and body still hurt.  My
body felt as though it were made of lead.  Even my eyelids felt heavy.
"Must be the pain medication," I thought.  I was thirsty again.  I moved
my right hand gingerly to the call button.  After several attempts, I was
able to push it.  About a minute later, a different nurse came in.  "What can
I do for you, Mr. Halsey.

"A drink?" I croaked.

She held the glass by my head and put the straw in my mouth.  After
several sips, I asked, "Has the doctor been in yet?"

"Yes, he's been here and left already."

"I want to go home now."

She laughed.  "Mr. Halsey, you aren't ready to go home yet."

"Yeah, I am."

"We don't even have your crutches yet.  You won't be able to walk for a
while without crutches.  And we need to be certain you won't suffer any
complicating conditions from the concussion.  Besides, you will find out
when we release you that your challenges are only beginning.  Do you
have anyone at home to help you?"

"No."

"Taking care of yourself and cooking at home are going to be difficult.  I
doubt you'll be able to work for awhile.  Do you have a family member
near who could come stay with you."

"No," I blushed.  "I want to get back to school."

She laughed again.  "Mr. Halsey, you have something of a gift here.  You
get to stay home and take care of yourself and rest, really get back on your
feet.  You think about that.  Let me get you something to eat.  You've
gone without food for awhile," she mentioned as she went out the door.

I felt ashamed, felt a failure.  How could I explain that I had no life outside
teaching, so I needed to be in the classroom?  Staying home with my head
filled with such thoughts was not an exciting prospect.

Just then three nurses aides came into the room with their hands filled with
flowers.  "Mr. Halsey, you must be popular.  Look at all these flowers.
We kept them at the nurses station until you awakened.  People have been
walking by commenting on them.  You have the record today on this floor
for receiving the most flowers."

I said nothing.  Just stared dumbly.  Two of the aides left after placing the
flowers around the room.  The one remaining asked, "Would you like me
to read the cards."

"Please."

She plucked the envelope out of a big bouquet of glads, opened it and
read, "The Faculty."

"My birthday flower," I thought.

She moved to a yellow chrysanthemum plant:  "Valerie and Jarod."

"Oh," I thought, "that was Valerie's gesture.  Jarod would never think of
it.  He probably didn't even know Valerie had sent the flowers and put his
name on the card.  Oh damn!  This means the story is all over the school."
I could feel myself blushing.  "How do I know Jarod didn't push me," I
wondered.  "Especially since he told me I wasn't his friend and konked
my head into the wall."

A lot of red and peppermint carnations:  "Your Junior English Class."

"After that rotten class period they want to send me flowers?" I asked
myself.  "Sweet kids!"

Yellow roses:  "Susan and Troy."

"Now that surprises me," I mused.  "That had to be Susan's gesture; she
put Troy's name on it even though he wouldn't have wanted to do it."

"Why the frown, Mr. Halsey?"

"Oh, I don't think Susan's boyfriend is too happy with me now.  I think
she arranged for this and signed his name."

She looked and the card and then showed it to me:  "No, two different
signatures here."  Sure enough, I recognized Troy's handwriting.

"May I see the card from Valerie and Jarod?"

"Of course."

Jarod had signed the card himself.  "See, Evan, you don't know
everything," that snotty voice put me in my place.

A bigger bouquet of white stock:  "Get will soon, Evan.  We miss you.
Tim Minor," she read.

It had already crossed my mind that Tim might have been the pusher,
especially after that strange, less-than-friendly exchange we had had last
afternoon.  He could be covering by sending flowers in case anyone
questioned how accidental my fall had been.  And how did he know that
stock was my favorite flower?  Prescient?  Yeah, a prescient chemist.
Like that was ever possible.  "You're a snob," my internal tormentor
hurled at me.

"I'll just place these cards in the drawer of your nightstand.

Just then the phone rang.  She handed me the receiver.  "Hello."

"Evan, it's Kate Williams.  I'm distressed over the news of your injuries."

Kate Williams was our high school principal--tough, good, intolerant of
nonsense.  She had hired me.  We had always hit it off.  She was my
favorite kind of leader, a facilitator, not a finger-wagger.  Anyone who
thought a woman couldn't head a large faculty or manage a large high
school soon received his or her comeuppance.  That mistake in thinking
was never repeated with Kate.

"I talked with the hospital and Tim Minor.  As nearly as we can piece
together from the little the medical people tell us, you won't be teaching
for a while.  In fact, you'll be staying there for a few days."

"I'm afraid so, but I'd rather be home and in the classroom."

She chuckled.  "We've arranged for a substitute for you.  We'd rather
have you return when you are back to your old form.  Evan," the tone of
her voice changed, indicating a more serious discussion, "you were pushed
down the stairs?"

I paused.  "Yes."

"Do you know who pushed you?"

"No, when I flew out and rolled over in the air, I just saw this tall shadow
behind me."

"I'm going to request that the police begin an investigation, Evan."

Immediately upon hearing her intentions, I felt a warning welling up deep
within me.  "Kate, could you hold off on that a little bit?"

"Why would you want that?"

"I just have a feeling that I can get to the bottom of this situation.
I think it happened spontaneously--no premeditation.  I can resolve
this matter with the least fuss and disruption to the school and the
perpetrator's life."  Actually, I hadn't a clue yet about the pusher.

"You are thinking it was a student?"

"Yes.  I hate the thought that someone was upset enough with me to take
such desperate action.  I assure you that that is not my design as I work
with my students."

She chuckled.  "Save the defense, Evan.  I know you well.  However, I
have to think not just of your safety but that of others as well.  How could
I be doing that if no investigation occurs?"

"It will occur Kate.  I'll be investigating."

"What will faculty, staff and students think when they see nothing
occurring?  I can't tell anyone that you are conducting an investigation.  It
could undermine you, perhaps place you in danger.  Even worse, it will
seem that we don't value you."

"For the time being, can't you just say that I'm a little confused about
what happened and that that is what you are trying to determine?"

Silence while she mulled over the suggestion and all the implications.

"Kate, I have never really asked you for a favor before.  I'm asking for
one now.  Let me see what I can find out.  If I can determine nothing, then
you can proceed."

I heard a chuckle.  "How polite of you, Evan, to forsake reminders about
how many favors I've asked of you over the years."

"Since I knew you wouldn't forget, you didn't need reminding."

"Against my better judgment, Evan, I'm going to go along with you for
awhile.  But if one more event occurs or anything else happens that makes
me think people are at risk, our agreement is off."

"I understand.  I don't want to put your leadership or reputation in
jeopardy.  A friend wouldn't do that."

"Very well.  Call me when they let you go home."

"Thank you for the flowers.  I'm a little surprised."

"By what?"

"That the faculty cared enough to send flowers.  I'm kind of stand-offish."

Another chuckle.  "Stand-offish?  The new faculty think you're a glacier.
Evan, you bring credit to us all, something you've never realized.  You are
liked and appreciated more than you know.  You have a reputation
throughout the entire school for intelligence, rigor, and fairness.  Your
kids learn.  They so often claim that they had to think in your classes.
Now get some rest and call me when you are free."

"Thanks, Kate.  Goodbye."

  The nurse had returned with a tray of broth and pudding.  She raised my
bed a bit.  She handed me a straw.  "With your arm fastened to that board,
you'll do better to drink the broth through a straw."  As she left the room, I
dutifully sucked away, but it was like drinking stale water--no taste this
time.  I tried eating the pudding with my left hand, but it too was tasteless.
"What do they do to remove the taste from hospital food," I wondered.

I was tired.  I pushed the tray table back with my left hand and noticed
how heavy my eyelids felt.
                             ........
I awoke slowly, reluctantly.  I wanted to be unconscious.  I looked over at
the door and there stood Troy with his hands shoved nervously into the
front pockets of his jeans.  In the same way that my back involuntarily
arches when something turns me on sexually, panic suddenly made me
scramble to protect myself from Troy.  I really wasn't thinking.  The
blanket and sheet went flying.  I threw my arms out to push myself
out of the bed, nearly ripping the IV needle out of my arm.  Putting my
weight on the fractured leg made me shout in pain.  Troy rushed to the
side of the bed, but the fear in my eyes made him stop.  I was panting as
though I had run a 100-yard dash.

"What's wrong," he asked?  I just stared in fear at him.  I could see the
realization sweep over his face.  "I'm not going to hurt you."  I just stared.
"Why would you think I'd hurt you, Mr. Halsey?"

I lay there recovering.  He waited for an answer.  "You might start with
those looks you were giving me in class yesterday."  He blushed.  "If
looks could kill, I'd be dead.  Are you the one who pushed me down the
stairs?"

Now it was his turn to be startled.  "You were pushed?"

"Yes. . . .And keep that quiet."

"Sir, I would never push anyone down any stairs.  If I had a problem with
someone, I would address it directly, not pull something irresponsible like
that."  He shifted his weight on his feet nervously.  "In fact, that's why I'm
here now."

"Well, you obviously had a problem with me in class yesterday.  Pushing
me down the stairs could be a way of dealing with it directly."

He blushed again.  Sighed as though to signal that he was going to have to
address an issue he'd prefer not to acknowledge.

"What do you mean 'why I'm here now'?" I asked, suddenly tipping to
that odd confession.

"I'm here now to explain why I was unhappy with you in class yesterday."
He shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked over to the dresser by
the window, looking out.  "Susan and I had an argument because of you."
I said nothing.  He looked at me as though to say, "Are you really going to
make me tell you all this?"  I waited him out.

"After that class where we talked about marriage, I just mentioned to
Susan that I couldn't understand why you wouldn't get married again.
She thought a while and then said that maybe you wanted to try something
different.  It took me a little bit, but I figured out what she meant.  He
blushed again.  "I said something that made her mad.  She asked me to
take her home and then wouldn't talk to me anymore."

"What did you say that made her angry?"

He looked at me as though to ask, "Please don't make me tell you."  But
after what I had experienced, I wanted to be certain he wasn't out to hurt
me.

"I called you a faggot."

I sucked in a breath audibly and looked down at my hands.  Neither one of
us said anything.  Finally, I said quietly, "I need to rest.  You can go now."

"Not again!" he exclaimed in exasperation.  "Look.  I got my head
straightened out on that point.  Susan and I talked it out.  I'm okay with it
now."

"I'm not.  You should go."

Walking over to the bed, he gently lifted my leg in the splint, saying,
"Slide down."  I did so slowly.  He pulled the sheet and blanket back up
over me, reaching up to pull the pillow back under my head.

"Mr. Halsey, my family is great in most ways, but not with minorities
and  . . . other groups.  I picked up that attitude at home.  But then I
had a talk with someone who helped me understand that, because I had
inherited my prejudice, I could dump it anytime I chose."

"You told someone you called me a 'faggot'?" I exclaimed with alarm.
"Who?"

"One of my teachers."

I rolled my head and my eyes at the same time, the visual equivalent of
saying "Oh shit."

Troy added quickly, "It's okay, Mr. Halsey.  He understands."

"Understands what?  And I want to know who know possesses
information on me that could ruin me."

Troy looked at me.  "So it's true then?"

"Troy!"

"Okay, okay."  He looked at me for a moment.  "You don't know it, but I
really shine in the sciences, especially my favorite class, chemistry.  Mr.
Minor and I are tight."

Horror wrote itself across my face.  Again, a breath powered out of me.
Tears sprang to my eyes.  I rolled over on my side away from him,
covering my head as well as I could with my hands.  I was going to be sick
at my stomach.  I hoped I wasn't going to throw up in front of him.

"I would rather you had pushed me down the stairs," I said softly.

"You don't have to worry.  I told you:  he helped me understand that I
need to be responsible now for what I believe, and that may require
bucking what my family believes."

Just then a male nurse entered the room.  "I'm sorry young man, but Mr.
Halsey requires some attention now.  Maybe you could come back another
time."

After a few seconds, I heard "Good by, Mr. Halsey.  I hope you are feeling
better when I see you again."

"I hope I don't see YOU again," I thought.  I heard the door close.
I want to remove your catheter, Mr. Halsey, and then start you walking.  I
brought your crutches.

The entire process took nearly an hour.  I wasn't doing badly on the
crutches, I guess, but I hurt everywhere.  I supposed that pain was natural
the first few times one tried walking after injuries.  When we had made
several circuits of the room, he helped me back to bed.  I fell asleep
immediately.
                         ............

Whispering awoke me.  I looked up.  There stood Susan and Troy, Jarod
and Valerie, Kenny, LaRonda, Paul, Greg, Rosalie, and Tony.  "Tony," I
thought.  "I am surprised."

"Hi Guys," I croaked out.  Time for another drink.  I tried to reach across
with my left hand for the glass, but it was an illegal move, the immediate
pain told me as I groaned.  Kenny shot to the tray table, holding the glass
and straw down to me.  I looked at him.  He had tears in his eyes.  After a
couple of sips, I managed to say to all of them, "Hey, thanks for the
flowers.  I was amazed.  The nurses are awfully impressed by your
generosity.  I really mean it.  I'm grateful.  And thank you, Kenny."

They moved up closer to the bed.  "You look like you really hurt," said
Tony.

"I have a fractured leg and some broken ribs."

But have you seen your face?"

"No."

"Here," LaRonda said as she flipped up the middle section of the tray
table.  I was stunned by what was looking back at me.  A gauze band
circled my head.  The black eyes made me look like a raccoon.

"My word," was all I could manage.

"Do you know what happened?" LaRonda asked.

"I was going down the stairs.  I guess I stumbled or something," I
answered.  I saw silent looks swapped among them.  I wondered what they
signified.  "Do you know who found me?"

"It was Mr. Minor," answered Rosalie.  "He had driven by the school after
the storm and had seen your car still in the lot.  He circled the school but
noticed there was no light in your room.  He thought he should check it
out just to be safe.  When he walked up to the North Door, he saw you
through the glass inside on the floor."  Her eyes widened:  "There was this
pool of blood by your head and you had blood on your face."

"Yeah," Paul continued.  "He went in to see how badly you were hurt,
then he called 911 and the principal.  He stayed with you until help
arrived."

"We were out driving around when we saw the flashing lights," Jarod
answered.  Uncharacteristically, he placed a hand lightly on my shoulder.
"We stopped to see who it was.  We were shocked when they carried you
out on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over your face."

I looked up at Jarod.  His coming forward at that point and the hand on my
shoulder were his apology for the bathroom scene.  I looked over at
Valerie and then back at him.  He was smiling to beat the band.

"Ah," I thought, "back together."  We two understood all of this without
any words.  "I guess that's 'connecting.'"

"It really scared us," Valerie said.

"What I want to know," I said, "is why so many students were out cruising
around instead of studying at home."  General groan.

Greg to the group:  "He doesn't even let up when he's in the hospital.
Well, at least we know that you aren't wiped out by this, Mr. Halsey.  You
are still behaving normally."

"Does anyone know where my car is?"

Greg answered, "Mr. Minor had me drive your car to your home, Mr.
Halsey.  He followed to take me back to my car at school.  It's a good
thing he knew where you lived.  I didn't.  We left the car locked in your
driveway.  He has the keys.  Oh yeah, he has your glasses and your attache
and lunch thingy."

"Tim Minor knows where I live?" I thought.  "How?  I don't know where
he lives, and I've never invited him to my house."

"You've never invited anyone to your house, Evan," the snotty voice said.

"It's all over school," Susan said.  "But I guess all the flowers told you
that."

I moaned.

"What's wrong?" asked Kenny.  "Are you hurting?"

"I don't want to be the story of the hour," I replied.

"Who's going to help you when you go home?" asked Susan.

"Evan Halsey," I replied.  Susan frowned.

"Surely you have relatives who could help out?"

"Not in this state.  I'll get along fine."  Her frown deepened.

Just then Tim Minor walked into the room.  He walked over, handing
me my glasses, which I put on.  I looked into his eyes hard and deep.
He looked back just as hard and deep.  Our eyes locked for a long
moment.  I looked at Susan.  Yeah, she caught it.  I glanced at Kenny.
He did too.

Tim broke the silence:  "Evan, the hospital will not allow you to meet your
classes in your hospital room."  The group laughed.

"Yeah, look at his hands nervously folding and refolding the sheet.  He's
already itching to collect a writing assignment," Paul laughed.

Just then a cute orderly entered the room pushing a cart with a wash basin,
a can of shaving cream and the like on it.  He'd caught the last exchange,
and picked up accurately on the mood of the group, I suppose.  "Mr.
Halsey, the nurses are complaining that they get whisker burn when you
kiss them, so they sent me in here to make you decent."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh.  I knew it," LaRonda looked like the cat that just been
given a saucer of cream.  "Put this man with some legal women and he
turns on, lights up like a Christmas tree!  My reading of a man is never
wrong."  I most certainly was not going to disabuse her of that notion.

The group began to migrate to the door, telling me goodbye as the orderly
stood by smiling.  I saw Tim and Troy exchanging glances and something
else--there was some head shaking there.

Susan came over, squeezing my free hand.  "Don't worry.  It will work
out."

"To what was she referring," I wondered.

I had avoided looking at Troy all the time he was there, and I didn't look
at him now.  Rather, I looked at the group as they shuffled out the door.
He was at Susan's side.  Beyond that, I wasn't noticing.

As the door slid shut, Tim said to the orderly, "Hi, I'm Tim Minor, a
colleague of Evan's."

The orderly smiled:  "Hello, I'm Wesley Trotter.  Call me 'Wes,' please."
They smiled and shook hands.

Tim continued, "Listen, I have to talk to Evan about some school stuff.
Mind if I shave him while we talk?"

Astonishment would be an understatement in characterizing my reaction.
I looked at Tim as though he had just asked me to sign over all my assets
to him.  Wes looked at Tim, then at me, then back at Tim.  A smile spread
slowly across his face.

"Just don't be long about it and don't let anyone know.  Okay?"

"You got it," said Tim.

Wes turned and left the room, looking back over his shoulder at us and
chuckling a bit.  Tim turned to me.  "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Helping a friend."

"Did you push me down the stairs?"

"So the rumor is true--someone pushed you down the stairs.  And you
think I did it because of our little talk yesterday noon.  I guess I can't
blame you.  I shouldn't have come on to you that way, but months of
frustration just came pouring out all of a sudden.  I couldn't stop it.  The
answer is 'No,' I didn't push you down the stairs."  As he talked, he
walked over to the bed, moved my bound arm off the sheet and blanket,
and pulled them down to mid-thigh.  He returned to the cart, pulling it
over to the bed.  He reached up and gently removed my glasses, placing
them on the tray table.  He dipped  a washcloth in the basin, wrung some
of the water out, and rubbed a bar of soap over it.  He gently washed my
cheeks, jaws, and neck, then my face.  He was leaning in VERY close to
my face, sporting that wolfish grin I had seen in my fantasy with him.  It
reminded me of how someone moves in close when they are seeking a
kiss.

"What is this?" I thought to myself.

He dropped the washcloth into the basin and then wrung it out again,
returning to go over those same areas with it.  Returning to the cart, he
shook the can of shaving cream and shot a couple of times on his hand
with it.  As he returned to the bed, he perched his long frame on it. He
didn't spread the shaving cream on my face.  He used it to caress my face
slowly.  My eyes narrowed, trying harder to see his intent.  He was just
looking at me with that smirk on his face.

"Why do you smirk more than you smile?"

"Maybe I know more than you do."

"Do you know who pushed me?"

His smile disappeared momentarily.  "No, I'm still working on that."

This time my eyes widened.  "Why are YOU working on it?"

"Don't you want to know who pushed you?"

"Come on, you know what I mean.  Why would you care who pushed me
at all?"  The smirk returned as he opened a disposable razor, swished it in
the basin, and wiped the cream off in front of my ears.

"No questions while I'm shaving you, or I'm not responsible for what
happens."

I grabbed his forearm, marveling at the iron muscles I felt under the skin.
"Then talk to me.  Tell me things I want to know--like why you know
where my home is, why you decided to check me out when you saw my
car in the parking lot.  Why you were frustrated."  A smirk again.  He kept
leaning in SO close.  I could smell a light cologne mixed with his
smell, which was pushing blood into my cock.  Something was going on
here, but I didn't think I should give rein to what I was wondering.  I
didn't want to deal with disappointment.  With his other hand, he gently
but firmly lifted my hand off his arm and began slowly stroking the razor
down my cheek.

"I'd wanted to visit with you for months, to get to know you.  But you
would never come to the faculty lounge, the cafeteria, or anywhere on
campus.  You just holed up in your classroom.  I bet you never saw me walk
by your classroom at lunch time.  I don't know how many times I saw you
sitting there eating an apple, drinking juice, and reading a book.  Then
after classes you'd beat it home.  I thought I might run into you at the
grocery store or a restaurant, but that never happened.  So I looked up
your address and drove by.  I had a little introduction all prepared for
when I saw you out working in your yard.  But I could never catch you
outside."

He swished the razor in the basin and returned to shaving me.  I kept
looking into his golden brown eyes.  After he had shaved my cheeks and
under my nose, he tilted my head back, leaning down to within a quarter
of an inch of my lips.  Just as I started to move my lips toward him, he
backed off, not far, and began stroking the razor up my neck.  I felt myself
blushing.  He was smirking again.

"So when I saw you out there sitting on a bench in the foyer, I just felt all
these months of frustration welling up.  Your reply was polite but no
more.  I wanted more, felt I deserved more given all the effort I had put
out trying to connect with you.  Of course, you couldn't have known all
that.  I don't blame you for walking away from me when I made fun of
you.  I would have too."

He swished the razor again, laying it on the towel covering the cart.  He
wet and wrung out the washcloth again and slowly wiped the shaving
cream off my face.  Then he leaned in and brushed his lips across mine.
How soft.  How warm.  The gleam I had seen in my fantasy danced in his
eyes.

He picked up the razor again and began to lift the bottom of my hospital
gown.  I grabbed his hand:  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just getting you ready for closer maneuvers with the nurses."

"Watch it, Minor, that dick under there is deadly.  Tall guys like you
devote so much energy to shooting up that you don't develop enough
substance along the way.  You don't have what it takes to handle a dick
like that.  And I understand now why you were angry yesterday at noon.
Your desire for me was nearly uncontrollable."

"Don't kid me:  little guys like you haven't got the balls to satisfy a stud
like me.  In fact, your balls are probably about the size of cheap, grade D
olives."  He laid the razor down and his hand over my cock, which had
continued hardening.

"Talk about 'little.'  Everyone knows tall guys have pencil dicks.  One
look at mine and you'll break into tears of jealousy."

That wolfish gleam ramped up stronger as he slid his hand under my gown
and gently grasped my hard cock.  He leaned down to touch his lips to
mine again, "You just can't admit that you want me so badly that your
dick is wet with precum."  His hand moving over the head of my cock
revealed that is was, in fact, wet with precum.

Damn!  My own body was betraying me.  He touched his lips to mine,
slowly sliding his tongue over my lips and into my mouth.

I backed off just enough that my breath would tickle his lips as I taunted in
a whisper, "Nothing in that closed world of your well-ordered lab has ever
made you this excited, and if my hand weren't bound to this damned
board, I'd blow your mind by grabbing your little toy dick."

We kissed, gently, warmly, and forever, it seemed.  He had been softly
massaging the precum over my dick.  "Let me introduce a little excitement
in your tiny life, tiny Evan."  He slid his hand down the front of his slacks
and briefs, rubbed it through his pubes, around his cock and under his
balls, pulled it out, and gently rubbed his fingers under my nose and then
his fingertips gently circled around my nostrils.  My back arched as his
damp, musky spice assailed my olfactory senses.  He laughed, delighted
with my response.

I placed my free hand behind his neck and pulled him forward, licking in
the hollow of his throat and down the front of his shirt onto his chest.  As I
did so, I removed my hand from the back of his neck, moving it to a
nipple, the nub of which I rolled slightly between my fingers, just enough
to set him tingling.  A stifled groan emerged from his throat.  Now it was
my turn to chuckle.  "Your ass is probably throbbing in hunger, being so
near a big dick like mine," I said as I slid my hand up his cheek, feeling
the stubble there.

"A little guy like you would be intimidated by my ass.  If you were able to
get it up, one look at my ass would deflate it."  He leaned down and
breathed my cock into his mouth.  I moaned.  As he started sucking, he
moved his wet finger to my ring, teasing it.  The farther down he went on
my dick, the more he slid his finger into my ass.  I started tensing, so he
pulled off, tonguing my balls.

Looking up for a moment, he said, "Besides, I'm a top."

"Only for now," I said, hating my trembling voice.  "Not after your ass has
had a taste of my cock."

He dived down and started licking around his finger plunging in and out of
my ass.  Damn.  My back arched involuntarily again but more strongly.
Why couldn't I control that!  My moan was louder because it was mixed
with pain too.  All the sore places were protesting these sudden, pronounced
movements.  But I heard a simultaneous moan from him too.

He came back up to my face.  "You have a smelly ass, Halsey."

"Yeah, it's left you breathless."  And it had--he was panting, the smirk
replaced with a grin.

The gleam was back in his eyes.  "You're settling under my control, little
Evan, right where you have always dreamed of being."

He returned to my dick, this time sucking like crazy and plunging his
finger faster in and out of my ass.  A moan started low in my throat and
then peaked in a bark as cum shot out of my cock into his warm, wet
mouth.

He moved up to my mouth again, kissing me sweetly.  I could taste my
cum in his mouth.  "I've wanted that for so long."

My forehead wrinkled.  "Tim, if you help me figure how to do it, I can
suck you off too.  I want to reciprocate.  I don't like one-sided sex."

He kissed me again, pulling my gown back down.  "There will be time,
little Evan.  I don't want just a little bit from you.  I want the most I can
get for as long as I can get it.  Besides, I'll dream up a hot fantasy about
how I'm your doctor and I'm giving you a healing fuck."

Just then Wes stuck his head in the door.  "When I heard the moaning
stop and talking begin, I thought it was safe to come in.  Besides, I can't
wait much longer."

Tim stood up, keeping his back to Wes.  I looked down and saw a big
bulge in the front of his slacks.  "I have to be going anyway.  Evan, I'll be
here tomorrow after school."  He leaned down and kissed me.  Startled, I
looked over at Wes and then back to Tim.  He kissed me lightly again and
turned to leave.  "Take good care of him, Wes."

"Oh, don't worry, Tim.  We won't let him run away from you," Wes said,
giggling.   "It's time for another walk.  He'll be so worn out he'll sleep
like a log."

Wes was correct:  we walked and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the
pillow.  I had hoped to dream about Tim, but I was so weary that no
dreams occurred.

(To be continued.)