Page 118 of Private Exhibit
Andy started to chuckle, impressed with how quickly Devon was learning to stretch his mind, but then he frowned.You think it'll always be inside you no matter what?
No, it's not that. Devon blushed, and Andy both saw it and felt it in the boy's thoughts.It's just…I thought about it. But then I realized that now I can have a different A.G. inside me all the time. A better one.
Andy frowned and slowly shook his head, trying to understand what Devon was getting at.
Then it finally clicked.
Andy threw back his head and laughed, then bent down and nuzzled Devon's ear.I'm tempted to get inside you right now.
Devon gasped.
From the other side of the table, Oliver gave a dramatic, put-upon sigh. “Would you guys just go fuck already?”
Devon turned bright red, but before Andy could take Oliver's suggestion, a knock sounded on the front door, signaling the arrival of dinner.
Despite what Andy had said, he knew he actually wanted to wait. He wanted their next experience together to be one in which Devon was fully mobile and fully able to feel, with no worries that something might go wrong.
So in the meantime, night after night, Andy took Devon into the shower with him and jerked off while the boy watched, that intense, avid gaze making him feel like a king. Then Andy would do whatever it took to make Devon come. It got easier—and far more intense—once Andy got Devon's sensory nerves repaired.My gods. If he'd thought the boy was responsive before, having nothing hindering his sense of touch made it so much hotter.
They were getting so close. So close to being done. And all the other repairs had completely held. Every day at work, Andy found himself documenting his findings like a madman, noting down every tiny detail he'd noticed while working on Devon.
It got to the point that he had to give up the morgue entirely because he spent so much time in his old office. But he didn't want to simply pick back up where he'd left off four years ago. He wanted more now.
Andy walked down the hall and stopped at Crawford's secretary's desk. “Is he in?”
“He's on a call,” the secretary announced. “It should be just a few minutes.”
Andy waited, then walked into the office when the secretary announced him.
“Gerard,” Crawford greeted him, standing up to shake his hand. “Thank you for waiting. My son called and had to tell me about an art project he was doing for school.” The man smiled fondly. “I never get tired of things like that.”
Andy smiled back. “I'm happy for you,” he said, and he meant it.
“So what can I do for you?” Crawford resumed his seat and gestured at the chairs across from him.
But Andy was too keyed up to sit. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it over.
“What's this?” Crawford asked.
“My resumé.”
Crawford looked puzzled. “Why?”
“I want to work for you.”
Crawford blinked in obvious surprise, his eyes going wide.
“I know you're expanding your practice and your study of telekinetic bioengineering,” Andy went on, “and I want to be a part of it. I want to learn. I want to experience the full potential of what the human body can do, even if that means going outside the bounds of traditional medicine. I'd still like to run my study of Ashworth-Grahams and see if there isn't some sort of cure that can be synthesized to match what you did for Devon–”
“Whatwedid for Devon,” Crawford corrected.
Andy acknowledged that with a nod of thanks, then went on. “I want to practice again.”
Crawford raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you could take orders from me? You seem like the type who needs to be in charge and have name recognition.”
Andy shook his head. “I never wanted to be a household name. Right now, I just want to save lives instead of surrounding myself with death.”
Crawford studied him for a long moment.
