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.
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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