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 Jetdesk2@yahoo.com
The Nurse and the Patient, Part 5
Jonathan came into his room and fell in the chair. He wasn't sure what had just happened, and he felt confused, a bit mixed up. When Lance had kissed him, he had been taken completely by surprise. Jonathan had cared for many patients since becoming a nurse, and never had anything like this happened before. Part of him wondered if deep down Lance was beginning to feel gratitude for the care he was receiving from Jonathan.
The longer he sat there the more confused he became, and finally he stood to his feet. Whatever was going on was secondary to his patient's needs. He hurried back to Lance's room.
He stepped inside and saw that Lance was awake. "How are you feeling? Has the medicine kicked in yet?" he asked.
"A little maybe," Lance said.
Jonathan looked at his wrist watch. "It's been half an hour. "I'll give you another half."
"You want to get me hooked on this shit?"
Jonathan handed him the other half of the pill. "Doctor Todd may want you to cut back, but you're a long ways from getting addicted," he said. "Besides, at this point, there is no need for you to be in pain."
Lance took his medicine and washed it down with the glass of water Jonathan handed him. "Thanks."
Jonathan took the glass from him and sat it on the table. "There, you should start to feel better in bit," he said.
"Will you stay with me?" Lance asked.
"I'm not going anywhere." Jonathan took a seat.
Lance was quiet for a couple of minutes. Then he looked over at Jonathan and asked, "You mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" Jonathan asked a surprised look on his face.
Lance was still for a moment. Then a look Jonathan couldn't read appeared on his face, and he said, "Whatever."
"Tell me about your job," Jonathan said.
"I told you, I don't have a job."
"Then tell me about the one you had with the oil company."
"Not much to tell," Lance said. "It wasn't a big office. There were only about a dozen or so employees when I was there."
"So, what did you do?" Jonathan prodded.
"Different accounts would come in from all over, and my employees would do the posting, income as well as expenditures. My job was to work with them and see that everything stayed on the up and up. Every investor's check that was sent out went before me for approval."
"Sounds like a pretty fascinating job."
"It was all right."
Even though the words were said lightly, Jonathan could tell how much Lance had enjoyed his job.
"How long you work there?"
"Close to ten years."
"I'm sure you did a damned good job."
Lance laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I did so fucking well he fired my ass."
"All because you were honest and told your father who you really were?"
"That's right."
"Which happened first, your mother's death or you coming out?"
"It all happened about the same time."
"Was there a reason why you chose that particular time to come clean?"
Lance laughed bitterly. "I just got so fucking tired of his shit. He was always on my case about something, and one night he came by the office and jumped all over me about some trivial shit. Something about me never amounting to anything worth while and he was sorry he ever hired my ass. Well, one thing led to another, and finally I had taken all I could take. I'm not sure why, but I just looked at him and told him that I was gay, so he might as well add that to his shit list too. You should have seen the look on his face, Jonathan. His face turned white and then went bright red. Tell you the truth, I thought he was going to stroke out right there. He took a deep breath and told me to clean out my desk that the company didn't need the likes of me."
"That was before he knew you were going to inherit your mother's share, I take it."
Lance nodded. "Yep, and when his lawyer read her will, he was shocked. He just thought she would leave it to him, and he would own the company a hundred percent."
"You said you and your father are equal owners. If that's true, why have you not returned to the company? You would have the same say as he does, and if you wanted to scrub floors he couldn't stop you."
"You're right; however, as I told you before, why put myself through all of that shit when I make the same amount of money without going near the place."
"I hate to ask this, but how do you know he's not cheating you? If you never go near the place, you have no idea what is going on."
"Oh, I know. The way everything is set up, we both are able to keep tabs on each other. Besides, the company is regulated by several factors, the very top factor being a top notch audit company."
As Jonathan sat in the chair listening to his patient talk, he noticed Lance was getting drowsy. He stopped talking, and it wasn't long before his eyes closed. Jonathan remained still for quite some time, and when he saw that Lance was a sleep, he quietly left the room.
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Jonathan had been taking care of Lance in his home for over a week now, and the two of them were actually getting along quite well. Even though Lance's legs still pained him at times, he was up and out of the bed a lot of the day. Although he hadn't ridden in a car yet, he did enjoy sitting out on the patio after the sun had gone down and the heat of the day was gone. He had even started going to the table some to have his meals. He told Jonathan he was getting tired of the bed and wanted to be up more.
One morning they had finished breakfast and were having a second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.
Jonathan stood to his feet. "Are you expecting someone?"
Lance shook his head.
Jonathan went to the door, and when he opened it, wasn't surprised at all to discover Sam Thompson standing there. However, there was a second gentleman there as well.
"I want to speak with my son," Sam Thompson demanded. "I've brought my lawyer," he added for emphasis.
The man held out his hand. "Hello, my name is Lyle Harrison," he said. There was the smallest of a smile on his face.
Jonathan reached out and shook the extended hand. "Mr. Harrison," he said. He introduced himself and said, "I'm the nurse the hospital sent home to take care of Mr. Thompson."
"May we come in for a moment?" Lyle Harrison asked.
Jonathan suddenly remembered that Lance was close by and not in his bedroom. He said, "Please excuse me a moment. I'll return shortly."
He pushed the door to and hurried out into the kitchen. "Your father and his lawyer are here," he told Lance.
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, they are here to see you."
"I don't want to see them," Lance said. "Send them away."
"We're here, and you're going to listen to what we have to say."
Surprised, Jonathan turned to discover Sam Thompson and his lawyer joining them in the room.
"Get out!" Lance ordered.
"We're here, and you will listen to what we have to say," his father declared.
"I don't have to listen to a damned thing you say," Lance said, a look of determination on his face.
"By God you will listen," Sam roared.
Jonathan stood beside Lance's chair. "I may not have the right to ask you to leave, but I do insist that you say nothing to upset my patient."
Lyle Harrison placed a hand on his client's arm. "Take it easy, Sam," he said.
"Take it easy, you say?" Sam Thompson's body shook as he spoke the words. "You are telling me to take things easy when this money seeking bastard is living here with my son?" He glared at Jonathan and went on, "I told you the other day you wouldn't get a damn cent from me or my son, and by God, I meant ever word I said."
"Whoa!" Lance grabbed hold of the wheels with his hands and rolled around Jonathan. He stopped in front of his father. "You shut the fuck up, old man," he shouted. "I don't know who you think you are, or why you think you have the right to come here and raise hell, but, you do not have that right, and I won't allow it."
"Forgive me, but from where I stand, it doesn't look as if you can or can't allow anything, not in your condition."
"Get out. Get the fuck out of my house. I never want to see your face here again."
Samuel Thompson laughed bitterly. "Your house, you say? Need I remind you where this house came from, how you managed to live in it?"
"I earned this house the same as you. After all, you didn't have shit when you married my mother. It's thanks to her that you have what you have. At least I know that, and I'm willing to admit it."
Jonathan was concerned for his patient. This had to stop. "I'm sorry, but I feel I must ask you to leave. You are upsetting my patient, and I won't allow that to continue."
"You have no right to allow or not allow anything here, young man," Sam Thompson ranted.
"Yes, he does," Lance said.
Lyle Harrison placed his hand on Sam's shoulder once more. "Perhaps we should leave, Sam," he said. "This is not accomplishing anything at all," he added.
Sam stood still for a moment, and it looked as if he was going to listen to his lawyer. He turned and started walking for the door. Suddenly he turned around. He glared at Jonathan and then looked at his son. "You two may be fucking, but that don't mean a thing." Then looking back at Jonathan, he said, "You will not get a red cent. You have my word on that."
"Get out, you crazy old man," Lance screamed.
"Let's go, Sam," Lyle said quietly. He turned and looked in Lance's direction. "I'm sorry about everything, Lance," he said. "I really am."
Lance didn't reply. He remained silent, sitting in his chair and looking down at the floor.
"We'll see ourselves out," the lawyer said.
Jonathan stood beside his patient, and neither one spoke. They listened as a click sounded, letting them know they were once more alone in the house.
Jonathan turned and looked at Lance. "Are you all right?"
"Now do you see why I haven't fought for my job? Why the hell would I want to put up with that shit day in and day out?"
Jonathan didn't know what to say, so he didn't answer. He stood there for a moment feeling at a loss for words. Finally he started clearing the breakfast table and straightening the kitchen up. He had finished loading the dishwasher when he saw Lance start to roll himself down the hall.
"Are you going to lie down?" he asked.
When Lance didn't answer, he took off after him. When they reached the bedroom, he helped Lance out of the chair and into bed.
"You want to wait a while on your bath?"
"I'm tired," was all Lance said.
"Are you hurting?"
"I want you to leave me along," Lance said. The words coming from his mouth were rather harsh.
"Very well, I'll leave you to rest. I'll check back in a bit and see how you're doing."
As Jonathan walked out of the room, Lance said his name.
"What?"
Lance was quiet for a time, and then he said, "Nothing. I'm going to sleep."
Jonathan turned and left the room. He went to his own room and decided to take a shower. He stripped his clothes off and headed for the bathroom. As he stood in front of the sink shaving, he thought about Lance. What he must have endured, he thought, when Lance had shouted to his father the fact he was gay. If the scene had been anything like what he had just witnessed, and he was sure it had, if not even worse, how had Lance stood it?
As he rinsed the shaving soap from his face, Jonathan thought about his own mother. When he was a junior in high school he had confided to her that he was gay. For years before that he had lived with the thought that if he ever told her it would kill her. He had been so afraid of hurting her, of disappointing her. Actually she had made it easy on him. One day she had asked him if he were gay. He didn't know what to say, and she just pulled him into her arms and said that he was her son, that she loved him and would always love him. She told him that she had known for years that he way gay, but she really wanted him to be the one to tell her. From that time on, his mother and he had shared a special relationship and were very close.
He stepped under the hot steamy spray and let the needles to their work as they pierced his body, massaging him, causing his tight muscles to loosen up. He thought about his mother once more and decided to call her.
He quickly dried off and coming back into his bedroom, he reached for his cell phone. He punched a button and listened to the ringing in his ear.
"Hey, Mom," he greeted, "how's things going?"
"Is this my son? The one I've heard nothing from for days and days? You're voice sounds a bit familiar."
"Aren't you funny, Mom?"
"So, how's your patient? Is he improving?"
"He's doing fairly well. Just has a ways to go," he added.
"Is he treating you all right?"
"Shouldn't you be asking if I'm treating him right?"
"I have no doubt about you. I just don't want him taking advantage of you. I know how you are."
"Oh and how am I, Mom?"
"Shut up and listen to your mother," she ordered.
"All the time I listen to you," he reminded her.
"Like hell you do," she told him. "I'm use to the way you treat me."
"And you like it," he grinned into the telephone. Then, "Mom, I love you."
"I love you too. You take care of yourself, you hear me?"
"All the time," he said.
"Don't get smart, it doesn't become you."
"I need to go, Mom. I'll call you soon, I promise."
"Yeah, promises promises. That's all I ever get from you."
"Better than shit, right?" he asked.
"There you go again. I didn't raise you this way."
"Yeah, you did, and you know it. Good bye, Mom. I'll call you soon."
Jonathan ended his telephone call and dressed. He pulled a pair of shorts on, threw a tank top over his head and hurried out of the room.
He walked quickly through the house, making his way to Lance's room. At the door he paused and listened. He took a deep breath and held it. He heard it again as he stood there quietly listening.
He walked silently into the room and stopped. Lance was wake, his head turned to the wall, and he was crying, sobs racking his body. At first Jonathan thought about stepping out of the room and giving Lance privacy. Then he changed his mind and walked over to the bed.
"Hey," he said softly. He placed a hand on Lance's shoulder.
For a moment he thought Lance hadn't heard him speak. He remained facing the wall, and the sobs continued.
"Lance, I'm here for you. What can I do?"
Lance suddenly turned and faced Jonathan. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he reached up and placed a hand on Jonathan's. "You up for murder?" he asked, a slight smile forming on his lips.
"I refuse to kill my patients," Jonathan insisted.
"Not me, you shit head. I don't want you to kill me. How would you feel about taking my old man out? I would do it, but it's not like I can get to him very easy."
"I refuse to kill parents of my patients as well, even if the parent is an asshole."
Lance gave Jonathan's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Speaking of assholes, I know that's what I am, and I really don't mean to be. Hell, Jonathan, you've been nothing but swell to me, even when I've acted like a dip shit."
"Hey, you're one of the best assholes I've ever worked with, "Jonathan assured him.
Lance was suddenly aware of his hand on top Jonathan's, and he quickly pulled it away.
Jonathan noticed the tears were still flowing, and he asked, "Are you okay?"
"Jonathan, would you do something for me?"
"If I can," Jonathan told him.
"Would you lie next to me for a while?"
"If that's what you want."
"It is," he said.
Jonathan walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down carefully, taking care not to bump Lance or shake the bed too much.
As Jonathan lay next to his patient, he felt Lance's fingers wrap around his own.
"Thanks, Jonathan."
Jonathan's heart was beating rapidly, and his breathing was a bit ragged. What was happening here, he wondered?
"Jonathan?"
"Yes, Lance?"
"Are you all right doing this?"
"It feels nice, I think."
"You said one time you would be my friend if I would let you. You remember that?"
"I do."
"Well, if the offer's still on the table, I'd like to grab it."
Jonathan smiled at Lance and said, "Consider it done."
"I'm glad."
Lance moved his shoulders over just a bit so that the two of them were touching. "I'm really glad you're here."
When Jonathan opened his mouth to say he was glad as well, he saw that Lance had closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Jonathan closed his mouth and didn't speak. Lance was sleeping, and he needed the rest. After his father's visit, he was left exhausted and drained. They both had been put through the wringer, so to speak. Jonathan, himself, soon drifted off to sleep, his fingers still holding onto Lance's hand.
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Jonathan opened his eyes. For a moment he had no idea where he was. He felt something on his chest and looked down to discover Lance had placed his arm across him.
Fuck, what was happening here, he wondered? What was taking place? Were things changing between him and Lance?
He reached up to move the arm away, but when he touched it, Lance groaned in his sleep, and he let it go. He lay there for a time, his thoughts running like wild fire through his brain.
Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when Lance said, "You awake?"
"I am. How about yourself? Did you rest?"
"I've been awake while you've been sleeping."
"Are you serious?"
"You know what time it is?"
Jonathan raised his arm and looked at his watch. It was after one o'clock. He had slept for two hours. He sat up in bed, pushing Lance's hand away. "I am so sorry, Lance. I feel like I've neglected you. Are you hungry?"
"Jonathan, you have not now, nor have you ever neglected me since you've come here," Lance assured him. "Please lay back down for a little longer."
Jonathan lay down, his head on a pillow. He felt Lance's arm return to his chest.
"Do you mind?" Lance asked.
"Not at all," Jonathan told him. "Are you comfortable?"
"I am. In fact, at the moment I don't even have any pain."
"Good."
"Jonathan, I really appreciate all you've done for me."
"Hey, what can I say?"
"I know, it's your job."
Jonathan grinned. "And I know you like the job I'm doing."
"Most of the time," Lance told him.
Jonathan reached up and gave Lance's arm a gentle squeeze. "Well, I'm getting hungry, so I'm pretty sure you are too. I'll go fix us a sandwich."
"Hey, give me the jug before you leave," Lance said.
Jonathan tossed him the urinal and went to fix lunch.
The rest of the day went by quietly. After lunch Jonathan helped Lance with his bath, and afterward, they watched a movie on HBO. Before the movie started, Lance asked Jonathan to get in bed with him again.
"You're getting addicted to this, I think," Jonathan teased him.
"You wouldn't deny a sick man a simple request would you?"
"Of course not, and besides, it's my job to make you are comfortable."
That was how the day went, and later that night as Jonathan was helping Lance to get ready for bed, Lance asked, "Would you do something for me?"
"What you need?"
"Would you spend tonight with me? In my bed," he added.
Jonathan was surprised. "Are you sure about that?"
"I would really like you to. It's such a long ways off should I need you."
Jonathan was thoughtful for a moment. Finally he said, "I can do that."
"Good."
Jonathan went through the house and turned the lights off. When he returned, he was wearing boxers and no shirt.
"Is that the way you sleep?"
"I usually sleep nude," he answered.
"No reason you should change your routine now," Lance assured him.
Jonathan laughed. "I think I'll make an exception tonight."
He turned all the lights in the room off with the exception of the one beside the bed, and crawled on top the sheets.
Lance took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I appreciate you doing this, Jonathan."
"You need anything before I turn out the light?"
Lance gave him a smile and said, "I think I have all I need."
Jonathan reached over and turned the lamp off leaving the room in total darkness. He could feel Lance's body next to him, and it left him with a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even though he wouldn't admit it to Lance, he was happy to be here sleeping next to him. However unprofessional it might be, it made him feel really good.
Lance reached up and wrapped his fingers through Jonathan's thick chest hair. "You mind?" he asked.
"It's okay," Jonathan told him.
As he lay there with Lance's fingers on his chest he tried to keep his mind straight. Just the mere fact Lance was touching him was causing him to get hard, and he willed his thoughts to go in a safe direction.
Lance's fingers suddenly relaxed their grip, and Jonathan realized he had fallen asleep. That was good, he thought. He felt himself grow even harder inside his boxers, and it took all the will power he had to keep from reaching inside and pulling his cock out. He wanted to stroke it so bad.
How long he lay there, Jonathan had no idea, but finally he felt his body begin to relax, and he no longer thought about the hard cock between his legs. He was lost in a dream. He was walking on a sandy beach somewhere, and in the back ground he could hear the peaceful sound of the waves as they made their way to the shore.
End of Part 5