Chapter 6 #2
He opened his eyes, and he saw a calmness on Lawson’s face that he wasn’t expecting. The young doctor picked up John’s undershirt and scrub shirt and handed them to him.
Feeling oddly nervous, John hurriedly dressed, not even thinking about his neck and shoulder, and when the uniform was back on, he stilled. Stunned.
“Holy shit,” he said in awe, rotating his shoulder and even cracking his neck. The pain was almost gone. His shoulder still ached, but it wasn’t half as bad. And his chest felt like it got stomped on, but he could handle that.
Lawson was watching him closely and smirked in pleasure at the way he was moving.
“Thank you,” John said, clearing his throat, trying his hardest to maintain some sort of fucking professionalism after such a heady make-out session. “It feels better already.”
Lawson nodded, opened the bathroom stall, and without another word, left.
Regret flooded him, but not in the way he had anticipated. Regret that he didn’t say more. Only that Lawson didn’t fight him and didn’t press for more.
John’s lips thinned into an impatient line and he raked both hands through his hair. He took another deep, lung-clearing breath and opened the bathroom door.
The bright fluorescent lights of the ED greeted him, along with the hustle and bustle, the noise, and the smell.
Time to work.
He showed up the following day despite Tanya’s insistence that he take the rest of the week off after the incident.
“No rest for the wicked,” he told Steph upon arriving, coffee cup in hand and sunglasses still on, already heading toward the lockers to drop off his bag.
“No kidding,” Steph replied, scrutinizing him as he walked by. “You’re movin’ all right. That’s good.”
Yeah, all thanks to the resident whose magic hands worked my body like a fucking fiddle.
And damn him to hell, that’s all he thought about when he finally made it home last night and under the spray of a hot shower, urgently masturbated, still able to feel the press of wet, hungry lips and Lawson’s hard cock pressed against him, with only the barrier of their thin scrubs holding them back.
The moment had been undeniably hot. Everything John had been needing the last month.
If only they had a few more minutes alone, John would’ve dropped to his knees and taken Lawson’s dick into his mouth, and that thought alone had him spiraling into an orgasm, which was swift and destroying.
Thick ribbons of bliss streamed out of him for so long that his knees buckled.
By the time he dragged his weary, tired ass to bed, he pictured piercing blue eyes and heard two little words: “I know”.
He slept like the dead. In fact, he hadn’t slept that well since the night at the hotel with Lawson.
John punched the keycode to his locker and heard footsteps behind him. He recognized Lawson’s UCLA hoodie as he entered the hallway, carrying his backpack over his shoulder.
“Good morning, Lawson,” he said politely, deciding to no longer ignore him. That had been his rationale for acting like a starving man presented with a feast the day before, and maybe small interactions would help him build a fortified tolerance toward him instead.
“Good morning, Dr. Donnelly,” Lawson said in a slow, deliberate tone.
John frowned, glancing over his shoulder and noticing there was no one around but them. And the way Lawson was looking at him now…
Fuck.
He shivered and ignored the reaction, turning to put his backpack and sunglasses into the locker and slamming it shut.
Before he could turn, Lawson’s hand was on his shoulder, kneading the muscle into relaxed compliance, and John’s knees went weak, his body instantly responding in a way that he didn’t fucking understand.
“We have two minutes before Reyes gets here,” Lawson whispered, and then his other hand descended on him, working the tight muscles over his sweater and scrubs.
He tensed, trying to shift away, but Lawson moved, pushing him against the lockers and insistently working his hands over his body. John melted against the wall of lockers, letting out a trembling breath.
“That’s it,” Lawson murmured.
He felt his cheeks flush. Was he seriously blushing? He nearly moaned in mortification.
This is so wrong.
Just tell him to stop, John.
It’s not that fuckin’ hard!
It was hard because whatever Lawson was doing to his frozen shoulder was cowboy voodoo magic that apparently caused John’s prefrontal cortex to shut down.
No one had ever cared so much to do this for him, let alone know exactly how to massage his frozen shoulder.
He’d gone to a dozen massage therapists, trying to recreate what Lawson had done to him since that night, and no one could replicate him.
“I need my captain in good spirits today.” Lawson’s husky, low tone sent shockwaves through his body, and straight to his cock. He stifled a groan the best he could, and it came out in a weak whimper at the back of his throat, which was way worse.
Lawson seemed to like it as his touch grew more intense, digging almost painfully into his shoulder before releasing, dragging it out.
“Lawson…” John croaked. “This isn’t…”
“I know. I know.”
More massaging, more soft, panting breaths.
“I take a break between two and three,” Lawson whispered. “Meet me in the break room today. Give me another two minutes.”
He thumped his forehead against the locker, “Lawson. That’s not a good idea.”
Lawson’s hands withdrew, and John could finally breathe again.
He turned and saw Lawson stripping off his hoodie, the brief outline of his abs and that sharp V-line of his hips, and the telling signs of an erection.
John flushed again, quickly retrieving his coffee from the bench.
Once Lawson’s head cleared the sweater, he glanced toward him and then downward.
Lawson didn’t even blink, his expression perfectly neutral, and yet his eyes…
Something flashed there for the briefest of seconds, seeing his own telling signs of John’s semi-hard dick.
The young man kept his eyes locked with his as he casually slid his hand beneath his scrubs, adjusted his erection upward, discreetly snapping the waistband of his briefs and scrubs over himself.
John wondered if he should do the same.
“Yo, yo, yo,” Reyes chimed down the hallway. “Dr. D! You’re alive. I thought you’d want the day off.”
“Good morning to you too, Reyes,” John said politely, smiling half-heartedly at the young doctor, shifting his stance to alleviate the pressure that had built there. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Yeah, we know,” Reyes said, punching in the locker code. “You’re the toughest son of a bitch in the ED, next to Samuels. The only difference between the two of you is that you smile on occasion.”
“Well, Samuels has that ability, too,” John replied. “I just think he forgets how to do it sometimes.”
Lawson frowned considerably at him for some reason, making him hesitate, wondering what shifted the younger man’s mood, before nodding briefly at the two men and heading toward the central station to Steph.
Lawson and Reyes reminded him of the younger days when he and other young doctors were battling for dominance in the ED.
All ego-driven, trying to outsmart and outdo one another.
Lawson and Reyes seemed almost indifferent to competition and were more like teammates, wanting to support rather than stifle with judgment or rivalry. He supposed it was a generational difference. And the thought suddenly made him feel old.
He instinctively rolled his shoulder and sighed. Damn it, Lawson had the magic touch. His shoulder had never felt so loose. Maybe he’d take him up on the offer to meet in the break room.
Just two minutes.
It couldn’t hurt.
That’s it, and that would have to be enough.