Chapter Nine
A Frustrated Patient
The expression on Oscar’s face transformed into shock then amusement, before returning to severe.
“Stop it, now,” he said, but his breath hitched. “Miss June asked me not to make you exert yourself in any capacity, and I reckon I know what she meant.”
“Oscar, I feel fine. It barely hurts ’tall.” I protested, which was a falsehood, but the need to bury myself in Oscar was overriding any of the pain I still felt, which had diminished quite a bit—or else I’d got used to it.
“Jimmy,” he said, speaking to me like I was a child, which was an amusing turnaround for us. “I am more than willin’ to bring you off with my hand, but that’s all I can give you right now. You want it or not?”
I swallowed.
“Sure I do.”
“Well then, I’m gonna latch the door so nobody disturbs us.”
“All right.”
Oscar walked to the door and slid the latch shut as I gazed at where the long shirt sloped along his buttocks and ended at the midst of his slim thighs, wishing I could fuck him like that. I’d have to do it someday, when I was in tiptop shape and not a shadow of myself.
When he turned back, he must have seen the raw need in my gaze.
“Christ, you’re gettin’ me hard with the way you’re lookin’ at me.”
“Good. If not for this damn injury and Miss June’s interferin’, I’d be tuppin’ you by now.”
“Oh!” he said. “My, my, my… Pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you, mister?”
At Oscar’s use of that particular honorific, I was transported back to the first night in the hotel, when he’d been so argumentative and ornery, and I hadn’t even realized how much I’d wanted him.
I’d had no reference point for those feelings, and I’d figured I was horny for anything since I’d lost my chance to rent a nice whore for an hour.
But, looking back on it now, I know ’twas simply Oscar and the way he affected me, the way he’d done so from the moment I’d met him.
He sat beside me on the bed, with one leg crossed o’er the other, and kissed me sweetly before pushing the bedclothes down, exposing my randy cock in all its ruddy glory, rising out of the thatch of dark curls at my groin. Then he took something out of his shirt pocket and showed it to me.
“I got this from Trick.”
He took the top off the little bottle of oil and poured some into his hand, then replaced the cap and put it on the bedside table. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up then reached for me.
I watched with hooded eyes as he wrapped his long and delicate fingers, shiny with oil, around my cock and stroked me up and down, slowly at first, making me shudder and groan with the exquisite torture of it.
“Oscar,” I moaned.
“Now, Jimmy, you be a good boy for me and don’t come till I say.”
I gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Now, hold on. I ain’t your good boy. You’re my good boy.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave my cock a long stroke in a corkscrew motion that made my lips part and a sound escape me.
“Oh, really? Why? Are you gonna be my naughty boy, then?”
“Fuck,” I said, suddenly understanding why Oscar liked me to talk like that. “Maybe,” I grunted. “I don’t know. I can’t think right now.”
He grinned. “Well, you don’t gotta think. You just gotta pay attention—because I want to show you how hard it is to hold off when you’re told you can’t spend.”
“But I… Oscar, I been injured ,” I whined, and gasped as he teased me with his fingers.
“Not in your cock or your balls. I don’t know what a slice in your side’s got to do with obeyin’ me.”
He switched hands and worked me harder, making me groan and causing sparks to light up in my balls and my gut. I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to hold off or not.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, spellbound by the sight of Oscar’s talented hands on my cock, all shiny with oil, and the sheer poetic beauty of it all about sent me o’er. I wrapped a hand around his wrist and stilled him.
“Now that’s cheatin’,” he pouted.
I made a face and held myself together by a force of sheer will. When I opened my eyes, I fixed him with my gaze.
“Now look. You’re a pro at this game, and I ain’t. Please make me spend? Please?”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but he shrugged. “Fine. Let it be noted that you ain’t very good at doing what you’re told—not as good as me, anyway.”
“I’ll never be as good as you,” I said, with a sheer sincerity that brought a blush to Oscar’s cheeks.
“No,” he said, shaking my hand off his wrist and resuming his work. “You won’t. You wanna spend, then spend. I wanna see your fine cock shoot spunk up to the ceiling, though, when you do it.”
Oscar’s words sent a bolt of lightning through my dick, and he hadn’t given me three strokes before I spurted in his hands with a cry, like a hose shooting water when you weren’t expecting it.
“Aww, hell,” Oscar breathed as he watched my cock overflow in his fist, globs of white spend spattering his knuckles and landing on my hip, as I panted and groaned and whimpered. Oscar had aimed my dick so I didn’t ruin Miss June’s clean bandages, and I was grateful for that.
Oscar released my cock and gathered Gus’s shirt up in his clean hand as he kneeled up. He used his spunk-covered fingers to point his cock at my bare thigh and hip, and he brought himself off in a matter of moments, his own spend mixing with mine.
He was so beautiful to watch, his drying hair falling o’er his forehead, his mouth open and eyes closed as he made staccato cries of “Ah, ah, ah” and spent on me in desperate bursts.
“Oh,” he said, milking the last few drops as he watched me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Oscar, don’t apologize. That was the loveliest thing to watch.”
“’Twas? Truly?” he said, grabbing a cloth and drying his hand.
“Oh yeah. Trust me. Anytime you wanna do that, you go right ahead.” I frowned and scratched my chin. “Well, unless I’ve forbidden you to spend, of course.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t even dream of disobeyin’ you, Jimmy.”
I grinned. “Oh no, I know it. You’re such a good boy when I’m dominatin’ you, ain’t you?” I said, reaching out to swipe some spunk off my skin and holding my finger in front of Oscar’s lips.
Oscar sighed, opened his mouth and took my finger inside the wet warmth of it, sucking the juice off and closing his eyes.
“Goddammit,” I whispered. “You’re gonna get me all randy again.”
But just then, there was a knock at the door, interrupting us.
“I’m sorry to disturb you fellas, but I need my oil back.”
’Twas Trick’s voice, and Oscar rolled his eyes.
“Figures,” he said.
He made his way off the bed, let the shirt fall so it covered his bits and picked up the little bottle from the side table. He walked to the door and opened it a crack, passing the oil to Trick.
“Here… I don’t need it no more,” he said with some smugness.
Trick laughed and said, “Fine,” so Oscar shut the door, latched it and came back to me.
“Why, you look a right mess,” Oscar said as he eyed the puddles of drying spunk on my thigh and hip.
I raised my brows. “You gonna clean me up, since you had more’n a hand in it?”
Oscar sighed. “I suppose I should. Then we best try to get some sleep. If I’m to ride out with Trick and look for Cal tomorrow, I’ll need my rest. And you need to let your body heal by lookin’ after it.”
* * * *
’Twas pleasant to sleep together in a warm bed and wake up snuggled under the blankets to sunshine streaming in the room.
The sounds of the town outside reminded us that we weren’t in the middle of the wilderness or at our homestead.
It brought me back to our earlier stay at The Angel, when it had been Oscar needing rest and recuperation.
’Twas probably about nine in the morning, taking into account where the sun was in the sky, and I was startled to hear a knock on the door this early. If my recollections were accurate, nobody except the cook and the scullery maid had been conscious before eleven during our previous stay.
“Jimmy? Oscar? May I come in?”
’Twas Miss June’s voice.
“Sure,” I answered as the knob turned, and Miss June tried the door.
“Jimmy, get Oscar to unlatch the door, please. Don’t you dare get out of bed yet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I shook Oscar awake. “You need to let Miss June in.”
“What?” he said, yawning and blinking like a kitten.
“Miss June’s here, but she can’t get in.”
“Oh. Hold on.” He slid from under the sheets, made sure the shirt was covering him, then padded across the wood floor to lift the latch and open the door.
“Good morning,” Miss June said, moving into the room and giving Oscar a glance. “Did you have a nice evening?” she asked.
She was carrying a basin of steaming water and a bundle of cloths, which she placed on the bedside table.
Oscar yawned and shut the door behind her. “Yep. And Jimmy didn’t move a muscle.”
Miss June raised an eyebrow at him, and Oscar snorted a laugh.
“Well, I moved it for him.”
I rolled my eyes as Miss June nodded. “I’m sure it helped him to get a good night’s sleep.”
Oscar nodded. “Oh, it surely did. He ain’t moved all night. I reckon he slept like a newborn babe, didn’t you, Jimmy?”
I blushed and muttered something while Miss June lifted the bedclothes and met my gaze.
“May I have a look?”
“Of course,” I said, though I was a mite embarrassed in the light of morning to be so vulnerable.
She rolled the blankets down to my where the bushy hair around my cock began but no further, which I appreciated, especially since I’d just awoke and my cock was swole of it’s own accord, as tended to happen most mornings.
Strange to think of modesty in a place like this, but I supposed I was more conventional in some ways than one would expect.
I didn’t have Oscar’s blithe way with nakedness and talking about physical acts so plainly, though I was getting there, at least when ’twas only the two of us.
“Oscar, can you help me sit him up and get his shirt off?”
“I can do it,” I said, using my elbow to push myself up and feeling a sharp tug of pain at the site of the injury.
“Let me help you, you silly git. You’re gonna rip them stitches if you don’t,” Oscar said, sliding his arm under my shoulders and helping me to get into a sitting position. Then he had me lift my arms, and he slid Gus’s shirt o’er my head and laid it aside.
“Thank you,” Miss June said. “Jimmy, you’re going to need to rest today and not get out of bed.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued.
“If you do that, I promise you’ll feel much better tomorrow, and you can start walking around the place. If you rip these stitches, we’ll have to start all over, and you’ll be laid up even longer.”
She had a point.
“You want that?” Oscar said.
“No. Course not.”
“Then you listen to Miss June and do what she says. If she can keep a house full of working girls healthy and strong, I reckon she knows what she’s about.”
My gaze flicked to Miss June’s, and her calm dignity reminded me that I was under her care and that I needed to listen and do what she said.
“All right.”
Miss June and Oscar unwrapped me like I was some kind of strange Christmas gift, while I held on to Oscar’s arm for support. His gaze flitted from the wall to the window and to my face and back again—anywhere but the wound that Miss June was examining.
“These bandages aren’t all that bloody, so that’s a good sign. The bleeding didn’t last long after the stitching was done.”
“That’s good,” I said, craning my neck to see. Miss June had stitched it nice and straight, with delicate sutures that you could barely see. It looked better than I’d expected. ’Twas still a bit red and angry at the edges, but I reckoned that would reduce with time.
“Well, that doesn’t look too bad,” Miss June agreed.
“I’ll put a fresh dressing on it now, and another one this evening.
We’ll change it twice a day for the next few days, and when it’s healed enough for you to go out riding, you should keep it covered so it doesn’t get dirt and dust in it.
I figure after a week you won’t need a bandage at all, if you do everything I say, and it doesn’t get any worse.
Infection is the thing we need to watch out for now. ”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I knew that was true. We’d lost an outlaw or two as the result of an injury that wasn’t properly cared for.
Miss June sponged the wound with a clean cloth soaked in the warm water she’d brought, then had Oscar help to wrap me up again in the clean bandages.
“How does that feel, now?”
“Good. I ain’t got hardly any pain, ’cept when I move.”
She smiled, and Oscar looked relieved.
“Wonderful. I’ll have cook send up some breakfast for both of you, and some willow bark tea for you, Jimmy. She’ll put something in it for the swelling, too, so drink every last drop of it, all right?”
“All right. Thank you.”
Miss June placed a tender hand on my shoulder.
“You’re very welcome, Jimmy. We’ll have you in ship shape in no time.”
She turned to Oscar.
“Now, I’m hoping you and Trick can set off by noon, Oscar.
I made sure she got rid of her last client by one this morning, and I’ll wake her at ten.
In the meantime, keep Jimmy company and don’t let him distract you by asking for favors, you understand?
” She gave a pointed look at where my cock lay under the blankets, then looked to Oscar.
“He needs to rest. In a little while, he’ll be well enough for any mischief you want to get into, as long as it’s gentle and slow. ”
Oscar snorted. “Gentle and slow? Jimmy ain’t ever—”
I cleared my throat and covered his mouth with my hand, enjoying the startled look in his gaze and the quick flick of his wet tongue against my palm.
I cleared my throat and lowered it, begging Oscar with my gaze to be quiet. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you kindly.”
Miss June gave me a lovely smile, and I reckoned I saw a hint of her youthful beauty from long ago. “You didn’t have to come all this way to help me and Cal, but you did, and I’m very thankful. The least I can do is make you comfortable while you’re here.”