Page 26 of Lovesick
“Maybe not getting up and swinging me around, but-” I leaned down, wrapped my arms around him with my head on his chest, and hugged him as tightly as I dared, only letting him go when my back started aching from the awkward position.
He beamed at me, then winced and let out a shaky laugh. “Forgot for a second there that things hurt,” he admitted. “It felt good to forget, though.”
That gave me an idea…but I wasn’t sure. Was he up to it? Would it help, or just feel ill-timed and out of place? “I could, uh…help with that, maybe. Make you forget a little longer, I mean.”
“Really?” Even the idea of feeling better seemed to make him perk up. “How?”
I was usually the innocent one, the one who couldn’t take a hint and was clueless when anyone else tried to be suggestive. Marty would probably have caught on by now if he was feeling better...but that was why this could be a good idea. A quick glance at the door told me it was shut, and I had to have a look around the walls, too - just to make sure there were no security cameras in the room or anything. “With a little of…this?”
My hand twisted out of his, slipped under the hospital gown to the abs that were still rock-hard after over a week in the hospital - and came to rest over something that wasn’t hard yet but would be soon.
I saw things click in his head. His gaze turned lustful, and he regained a little of his playfulness. “I don’t know, the nurses might come in and see the show… What if my heart rate goes up?”
I leaned close to his ear. He turned his head, probably waiting for dirty talk…and I whispered, “You aren’t hooked up to a cardiac monitor.”
His laugh hitched when I started rubbing his bulge over his briefs - a little tentatively because I wasn’t sure if he was into it yet.
He gave me an answer to that when he grabbed my butt, squeezing harder whenever my teasing hand got close to the tip.
Emboldened, I retracted my hand just long enough to slip it under his briefs still beneath the gown and blanket. My fingers wrapped around his now throbbing cock, and it was intoxicating to feel his grip on my wrist as I rested my right hand on his chest for balance and leaned over, giving my hips a provocative sway. Marty wasted no time in sliding his hand under my shorts and gripping my butt over my underwear as I worked.
Neither of us could see what I was doing under the blanket…but we could both feel it. I could feel it whenever a sudden uptick in pleasure teased him into a little jerk and Marty… Well, of course, he could feel everything.
My hand became slick. I focused on the tip, taking that precum down with my palm so I could slide up and down easier...and make it feel better. But…maybe there was something else I could do that would feel even better.
I moved my butt out of his reach but left my shorts pulled slightly down so he could see my flesh. Pushing back the blankets, I took as much of him as I could into my mouth.
He was so thick and long I couldn’t accommodate him all the way, but if his reaction was anything to judge by, he was fine with that. He shivered as I pinned my hair back out of the way with one hand and began to bob my head up and down. I pursed my lips, hiding my teeth, and felt him get even harder as I pause to lick him like a popsicle.
I let my hair hang loose, grabbed the base of his cock, and started to follow the same motion as my lips. Up, down, up, down - pause - whoops I lost the rhythm somewhere in Marty’s pleasured shaking - up, down... Add some tongue? My tongue found a place in the rhythm, teasing the tip and flicking along the shaft.
I knew he was getting close. I could feel it. He rose up to meet me, searching for even more pleasure. My tongue worked faster, focusing on that sweet spot. My hand gripped a little harder.
Marty’s thigh stiffened under my hand. and I felt a stream of liquid hit my tongue. I kept everything going - the hand, the tongue, the lips, just a little longer, until I could tell he was finished and he gave a little twitch. Then, I let go, found the paper towels, and daintily, like I was at a dinner party and I didn’t want to be rude, spit his seed into the towels.
I could still taste him, and as I turned back to Marty, I realized I had a tiny speck of his cum on my face. I wiped it off with the base of my thumb and licked my lips to check them too.
Marty was still laying there, recovering. I took a couple more paper towels and carefully cleaned him up, pulled up his briefs and smoothed out his gown and the blanket as if nothing had happened. “So…did it work?”
For a second, he just stared at me, and my heart dropped. What if I’d made the aching worse, or he felt even more tired now? I just wanted him to feel better…if only for those few seconds.
“Perfectly.” A huge yawn bisected the word. “Is it nap time now?”
Tension slipped out of my shoulders. I sat on my chair and leaned my head down on my crossed arms on the bed next to him. “Definitely.” I felt his hand descend on my arm and turned my neck the other way to see his eyes already closed. “Glad I could help.”
I wasn’t sure if he heard the words to know how much I meant them.
Chapter Twelve
Marty
Finally, my stay at the cancer center was almost over, and I sat in a chair next to the window fully dressed for the first time in several weeks. Noticing the health-related magazine on the table next to me, I opened it and skimmed over an informative article about cancer. I was a little surprised to find I could read through it without my heart dropping and claws of fear gripping at my mind. Even the medical terms, and that one particular word, chemotherapy, didn’t get a panicked reaction out of me anymore.
For a long time, even after I started chemo, I hadn’t wanted to believe what was happening. Maybe Dr. Willamon had made a mistake. Maybe the oncologist had made a mistake. Maybe I just had some kind of virus, after all.
This notion was completely ridiculous, of course. No doctor would ever start a person on chemo if they didn’t have cancer. But after I got over my period of denial, everything had quickly become a nightmare that was all too real. I didn’t have terrible pain all the time, but I did always feel some sort of discomfort that ranged from an upset stomach to general exhaustion and constant weakness.
I hated it. I hated feeling like if I tried to pick up a water glass - let alone a shovel or a bag of fertilizer - I would shatter into a thousand pieces. I hated feeling tired all the time. I hated the deep achiness that started after the first two weeks - actually, that feeling was the shittiest. I hated everything about this situation except for one thing.
