THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS. NO PORTION OF THIS WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR.
THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE LEAVE NOW.
ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL.
Guys, thanks for the responses. (Even if a couple of you accused me of being evil after the last couple of chapters) I would be lying if I told you that the only reason I write is for you, a lot of it has to do with my own need to get these stories out of my head. But, I also have a need to share these with you and it is great to hear what you think and how you are reacting as the plots develop. Yeah, I know some of you gripe about the cliffhangers (Tbear and Dave) but that's the way they come out. I really don't consciously construct them to leave you hanging on. (yeah, right, he says laughing) Hugs to you all.
DYLAN'S HOPE
Michael A. Raburn
Chapter 13
Voices whispered around me long before I was able to clear the blackness from my head. I was lying down; warm, comfortable for the first time it seemed in ages. The soft fuzziness of the velour blanket stroked my cheek as I stirred. I tried to get my limbs to respond so I could sit up.
"What's wrong with him. He was screaming before he passed out." Some one asked.
"I'm not sure. It could have been a nervous breakdown or there could be something more wrong with him." Sarah was saying to somebody.
I tried to shake the grogginess I felt from my head and quickly realized that was not a good idea. My forehead felt like someone had hit me with a baseball bat. Finally my arm moved enough so I could get my hand up to my head and feel a bruised knot about the size of a walnut.
"Jon, try to lie still. Can you hear me?" Sarah asked.
My voice cracked as I tried to respond to her voice.
"Mark, get him some water." She called to her brother. "Jon, can you open your eyes?"
"No." I croaked, my voice strained, my throat raw from the screaming.
"Jon, try to open your eyes. You passed out and hit your head."
Slowly I eased my eyes open just enough to make out her face above mine. She leaned over me and flashed a penlight in my eyes.
"Can you follow my finger?" She asked.
I nodded and performed the task she requested.
"You had us so worried." Sarah was explaining. "Here, try to drink some of this." She pushed a glass towards my lips.
I managed to swallow some of the water before I realized how thirsty I truly was and then gulped the remainder. She took the glass back, sitting it on the bedside table. My eyes followed her movements and I realized that I was in my own bed and not in the hospital.
"How did I get here? How long?" I asked.
"You've been out a couple of hours." She answered, her voice soothing me as she stroked my face. Over her shoulder I could see Mark and Robert whispering to each other, their faces reflecting obvious concern as their eyes darted from me to Sarah.
Memories rushed back to me from the darkness and I again began to sob.
"Dylan, Andrea." I called.
"Hush, Jon. Try to calm down." She was telling me.
The terror was again rising around me, the blackness again threatened. The cackle of his laughter was getting louder and louder. I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught.
"Hand me my bag." She yelled. "Help me."
The blanket was pulled from my chest and I felt hands roll me over and then I felt the sharp sting of the needle sinking into the muscles of my rear end.
Abruptly I felt myself relax and I was able to breathe again properly. My sobbing was less violent, the memories fading away from my mind.
"I need my Dylan." I pleaded, my voice faltering. "Baby." I whispered, sleep wrapping itself around me. Warm arms surrounded me; I smelled his scent as the blankets were tucked around me.
Memories of our lovemaking overwhelmed my senses. My lips caressed his neck, searching for the secret spot that only I knew would make him moan. My hands roamed up his ribs, feeling his muscles flex against me. His strong arms pulled me down to lie on him.
"I love you so much." I whispered in his ears.
His hands reached between us to grasp my hardening cock. My hands slid around his sides and down his back. Grasping at his buttocks I spread his legs, my fingers running up and down his butt crack. I could feel him pull one of his hands back and reach out from the bed. It returned full of lube that he rubbed around my dick, stroking me slowly. He wiped the slippery fluid across my fingers, greasing them, and then he guided them to his rosebud. So many times we had rehearsed this dance that preceded my entering him. Each time he would moan louder as I added fingers to his channel, opening him up to receive me deep inside his body.
His legs wrapped around my waist, his cock grazed my belly as he pulled me towards him.
"Oh, Jon." He whimpered against my neck.
"Baby." I moaned, turning my head so our lips could meet. We ravished each other's mouths as he guided me into him. "Oh, God." I groaned, my cock bottoming out in him.
Sliding slowly, easily from him the glove of his body caressed me as he tightened his muscles. I paused with only the head of my cock still in him for a second before I again slid into him. Slowly, we established a lazy, loving rhythm where he humped against the fur on my belly on the down stroke. From the way he was moaning I could tell he would not need to touch himself to orgasm. The head of my cock was gliding by his prostrate on each stroke causing him to tremble in my arms.
"Oh, Daddy." He moaned, releasing his taught muscles, his cum spraying against me.
"I love you, Dylan." I took my last stroke and felt myself emptying into his bottom.
My breath slowed as I lay holding him in my arms, kissing his neck. Our combined sweat and his cum glued us together as I collapsed into his loving arms.
Slowly becoming aware of myself again, I reached my hand out to pull Dylan back to me. I searched the bed for him but only got handfuls of rumpled sheets and then remembered. I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, determined that I had to deal calmly with the aftermath of, what the day before? Two days? Unsure of how long I had been asleep, I stretched my arms and stood up. Running my hands down my chest I found the crusty remains of cum covering the hair on my belly. I could not remember the last time I had a wet dream.
I stumbled over to the window, looking out into the night at the back yard, flooded with moonlight. I glanced back at the bedside table and the alarm clock. It was typical of me to be awake at four in the morning rummaging around anyway. It seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. That disturbing thought bounced around in my head as I walked to the bathroom and started the shower.
"Oh, Andrea." I moaned out loud as the water cascaded over me. "My baby..." I cried, tears again running down my face. I leaned my arms on the tiled wall and sobbed.
"Daddy," she sobbed. "The tooth fairy forgot me." She held up the envelope we had tucked under her pillow the night before. Our tradition was to put the newly pulled tooth in an envelope then she would find the money magically in the envelope the following morning. But, indeed the fairy, me, had forgotten the night before. I was up to my neck in reports and proposals and had fallen asleep in the chair.
"Honey, let's put it back for a little while. Maybe it was a busy night and she hasn't gotten here yet. You never know how many children lost teeth yesterday. Surely it's got to be a lot of work for one little fairy."
She looked up at me like I had lost my mind. "You sure?" She asked.
"Yep, I'm sure that's what happened. I'll go with you and we'll put it back for a little while then you can check after you get dressed and see if she finished her rounds."
So hand in hand we went back to the bedroom and hid the envelope back under the pillow.
"What are you going to wear to school today, Andrea?" I asked, trying to distract her from the tooth. She disappeared in the walk-in closet for a moment, just enough time for me to take the crumpled envelope out of my pocket and switch it for the other.
"How about these?" She asked, reemerging from the closet holding up her favorite pink pants and an orange shirt.
"Well, if you're sure." I laughed, my hand clutching the treasure in my pocket. "Go and wash your face and get dressed. I'm going to go get some breakfast ready."
"Okay." She leaned over for a hug and a kiss then scrambled away towards her bathroom.
I took the finished waffles from the toaster and turned around to she my daughter dressed in her mismatched outfit smugly waving the dollar bill in the air. She was grinning like it was the happiest day of her life.
"Well, she did make it didn't she?" I asked.
"You need to get busy. There are things to do." I muttered to myself as I shut off the shower and grabbed for a towel. I dried off and slipped into some clean boxers and headed out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.
I glanced down the hall at the two spare bedrooms, both doors closed. The lights were off in the living room but the moonlight streamed in through the windows. I could hear someone's gentle snore as I stepped in the room. Leaning over the sofa I saw Sarah asleep, the blanket kicked off in the floor. I retrieved it and spread it over her gently, so not to wake her. I turned towards the kitchen and gasped at the sight before me.
Sitting in one of the wing chairs, he appeared to be asleep. One arm was stretched around his knees, the other, limp across the arm of the chair, his head laid back against the upholstery. The handsome face I so loved was turned towards the window, the moon lighting his relaxed features. The fine blonde hairs on his legs and his head flashed silvery gold. His breathing moved his body so the highlights seemed to glimmer, glowing like an angel in an old painting I had seen in the museum.
I wanted to rush to hold him, to pull him against my body and tell him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him, but I was frozen in awe of the vision before me. Sinking to my knees I stared, trying to memorize every detail before he vanished, before his ghost dissipated or moved on. Tears were dripping off my chin and falling on my chest, my breath ragged in my chest. Slowly, like I was approaching a skittish colt I inched my way closer to the chair. Reaching out my hand I lightly caressed the shimmering hair of his leg, afraid to touch him, yet afraid that I would never get this chance again.
Holding my breath, I bent my head down until it rested in his lap. I could smell him, that scent that was so uniquely his. I settled in against him and my breathing evened out as I realized he was solid and was not fleeing. I yawned and snuggled closer to him, my eyes closing. As sleep claimed me, I felt his hand rest against my cheek.
"I love you." I murmured against his tummy.
TO BE CONTINUED