Chapter 8 #2
The motorcycle's engine roared to life and started forward. John’s arms tightened around him instinctively, and Lawson navigated them onto the busy LA streets.
The streetlights illuminated the dark roads.
The vibrations of the bike between his legs and its power were incredible.
He was lost in the experience, and so absorbed by the ride that he hadn’t noticed Lawson’s hand move over his until he squeezed and moved it toward the inside of his thigh.
He suddenly couldn’t breathe, feeling only the way Lawson’s leg muscle strained while he drove them through the backroads to the hotel.
John, deciding to take a page out of Lawson’s book, slid his hand further upward and intimately brushed his fingers over him, feeling the young man’s back shudder and cock press hard against the thick denim.
Lawson let him touch him for the next few minutes, his body straining under his touch the longer it went on.
John braced his other hand against his chest, feeling the firm muscles there as his own cock filled with blood and throbbed.
By the time they reached the hotel, his heart was racing like a jackhammer as Lawson pulled into the dark parking structure and into the designated motorcycle spot.
It was the same hotel from their first night together, which pleased John for some reason.
Lawson turned off the bike, yanked off his helmet, and jumped off, reaching for the strap at John’s chin before yanking his helmet off, too.
Before he could react, Lawson’s lips descended on him, hard and heady, fast and rough.
He hadn’t expected the onslaught, but maybe he should’ve.
After all, he had been teasing him for almost ten minutes of the ride.
Lawson pulled angrily back from the kiss, cursing and adjusting his jeans to accommodate the bulge. John let out another tired laugh, which caught Lawson’s attention, his eyes flashing at him.
“Sorry,” he said, sliding off the bike. “I—uh—laugh when I’m tired.”
Lawson tilted his head and unexpectedly smiled. “That’s fucking adorable. I’m a cranky old bitch when I get that tired. Now, c’mon.”
Laughter spilled out of him again, and he followed Lawson through the parking lot and into the side entrance of the hotel. He was suddenly grateful Lawson had already booked the room. The thought of interacting with any more people tonight sounded exhausting.
They walked through the lobby and to the elevators.
It was blissfully empty. The low-key vibe, mixed with minimalist aesthetics and expensive décor, had appealed to him when he first came here.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.
He carefully positioned himself on the opposite side, creating space. Lawson noticed but didn’t comment.
“We should talk first,” John said, clearing his throat of the sudden rush of nerves. He wasn’t sure why Lawson evoked this reaction from him.
“About?” Lawson asked.
“We need to establish some ground rules.”
Lawson watched the digital numbers tick upward. “Is this how you normally do this?”
The elevator pinged onto their floor, the doors sliding open. “Do what?”
Lawson pulled the room key card out of his front pocket and glanced at the number. Once they found their room, Lawson flipped on a lamp as John let the door shut firmly behind him.
“With the others,” Lawson finally said, setting the motorcycle helmets down on the table at the far end of the room.
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, confused.
The others?
Lawson had assumed that he did this often. Just not with his own residents.
“I’ve actually never done this,” John admitted, too tired to care about perception.
Lawson’s head jerked toward him, “I thought…”
“Look, it’s complicated enough doing this again with you. I think by setting some ground rules we can know what to expect…” He hesitated. “I love my job and my hospital, even if it pisses me off like it did tonight.” He sighed, “I’m not risking that for a hook-up.”
Lawson nodded thoughtfully, sliding off his leather jacket and then working on his boots. John swallowed hard, watching the display of raw masculinity as Lawson began to strip before him.
John set his backpack down, “I need to shower and…”
Lawson smirked, “Yeah, I figured I'd join you.”
Oh. Fuck.
His heart skipped as Lawson walked forward, tossing his jacket and shirt onto the chair and unbuckling his jeans. “It’ll be easier in the shower to massage your shoulder. And then when we’re done, you can go over your rules.”
The flutter of nerves slipped low in his belly. “I, uh… might not last long,” John admitted.
“Have you…?” Lawson asked slowly.
“Been with anyone else since you?” John asked, knowingly.
“Yeah.”
“No,” he replied, not sure why that made him feel nervous again.
Lawson’s eyes darkened, and he reached for the zipper on John’s sweater, slowly pulling it down off his shoulders and arms. He wasn’t used to someone undressing him or wanting to take care of him, yet Lawson insisted, even moving John’s hands away to pull his shirt off and toss it into the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.
He was a shivering mess by the time Lawson was done.
His pale eyes assessed the dark purple bruise on his chest, frowning. “Does it hurt?”
“Not so much,” he admitted. “Maybe just don’t jump on it.”
Lawson smiled, “You’re funny when you’re tired.”
He fucking shivered again and sighed.
Lawson led him into the fancy bathroom in their room. It had a large, luxurious shower with granite marble tiles, a black showerhead, and see-through glass doors. It was more than spacious enough for both men. He was looking forward to the shower, but especially now with Lawson.
He watched as the young man slipped out of his jeans and boxers, gloriously naked under the soft glow of the bathroom light.
Last time, John didn’t get to appreciate his body as much as he would’ve liked.
Now, he took his fill, gaze sweeping over the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen.
Lawson clearly worked out, and his body was proof of his discipline.
He was stunning, especially the sharp lines that descended to the apex of his sex.
His skin was pale but not overly so, as though it still managed to cling to the summer rays it had gotten months ago.
Lawson was beautiful, with riveting blue eyes that were far too perceptive at times. His lips were pouty, soft, and perfect. John felt self-conscious about his body by comparison. And seeing Lawson in all his virile athletic glory was really inspiring him to get his tired ass back into the gym.
Lawson was catnip to everyone who fell under his spell at work with his easy charm, polite manners, and boyishly handsome good looks.
But he wasn’t a hot head ego-manic like some of the other residents he’d had been forced to endure over the years.
Lawson was humble, kind, and comfortable enough to ask for help.
So, why the hell is he interested in me?
“Have you?” John asked, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
“Have I been with anyone else since you?” Lawson reached for him again, bringing John’s hands to his flat stomach, feeling the hot skin beneath his fingers as Lawson proceeded to untie John’s scrubs from around his waist.
“You know what, never mind,” John muttered in a rush. “I don’t want to know.”
“I haven’t,” Lawson replied gently. “Just you.”
Just you.
Goosebumps erupted over his arms, and an odd tingling washed over his chest, but he ignored his body’s reactions, letting his hands explore what his eyes already had, traveling upward over Lawson’s chest. “Why not? You know every nurse and some doctors have the hots for you.”
Lawson seemed uninterested in this conversation and leaned in to kiss John’s neck, releasing a sigh as he did so, as though he had been holding himself back this entire time from doing it. “So…?”
“So…” He felt Lawson’s lips begin to suck the sensitive place beneath his ear. “You can have anyone. Be with anyone.”
Lawson pulled back from his slow, hungry kiss at his neck. “Are you saying you’d prefer me sucking on Dr. Samuels’s neck?”
He released a strangled laugh, refusing to imagine that as he shook his head, “No.”
Fuck, he wasn’t prepared for Lawson.
He wasn’t prepared for any of this.
Something felt different with him than from last time. Everything about Lawson was different for him, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.
He could barely handle his own emotions lately.
He thought about how easy it had been for him to have a complete breakdown at the drop of a hat, or to stand numbly in the shower at home for over an hour, dissociating, before dragging himself to bed and passing out.
He had stopped drinking, thinking that would help.
But it didn’t. His emotions were on high alert, crippling him in unexpected moments, and he didn’t understand why.
Well, he did.
He just didn’t want to admit he was burnt out. Or maybe it was depression. Probably both. Whatever it was, he was fucking angry and stressed, and that cycle spun him out daily.
So to have Lawson, this incredible man with magical hands, slowly getting to his knees, helping him out of his pants and boxers, fingers skimming over the back of John’s legs and over his ass, face nuzzling his cock before…
“Fuck…” he groaned.
Lawson’s hot wet mouth enveloped him, sucking him down lazily, dragging his mouth over him and grazing his head with his teeth. He didn’t have to ask, Lawson just gave. He wanted to give, and that was utterly foreign to John.
John gave everything to everyone all the time.
And some days, it was never enough. And those days were the hardest of all.
Lawson was so damned good at giving effortlessly.
His mouth…
Oh. Fuck.
“Lawson,” John exhaled a long breath, already panting, feeling the swirl of emotion battling for release in his chest. “You’re… oh fuck… you’re so good…”