Chapter 14 #2
“Hope I’m interrupting,” John said with that half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he glanced at Conner.
“Let me help,” John said in his doctor tone as he casually leaned forward, grasping Conner’s wrist and forcing it off Wyatt’s, but he didn’t let go.
“You know, the wrist is a delicate thing, especially the older we get. Usually due to bone density loss or muscle overuse. With the right pressure here and… here.” John realigned his fingers over Conner’s wrist, bending it backward and tilting up his middle finger as if to demonstrate.
“I could snap a few bones, and your pitching season would be over before it's even started, Mr. Hobbs.”
Conner Hobbs.
Wyatt’s eyes widened in recognition. Hobbs was the pitcher for the LA Dodgers.
Holy shit.
Conner shook off his hold, pretending indifference, though Wyatt caught a glimpse of alarm in the man’s expression. “I was just talking…”
“So am I,” John said casually. “If you’d like, I could educate you on how easy it is to fracture a nose.”
Conner’s hand shot up defensively, taking a step back, but not before he glanced arrogantly at Wyatt, “Your loss, handsome.”
“Not really,” he drawled back, and Conner returned to his gaggle of fangirls and boys.
“Well, that was interesting,” John said, amused.
Maybe it was the buzz filtering through his bloodstream, or the adrenaline of watching John literally threatening to break a pro baseball player's wrist for him, but Wyatt couldn’t stop the big silly grin that tugged at his lips. “That was hot.”
John’s chest rumbled with a chuckle, the corner of his eyes crinkling in those deep lines, and Wyatt reached for him, unable to resist.
“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, a mere breath away from the man of his dreams.
John’s amusement was replaced with an excited heat that thrummed through Wyatt’s entire body.
“Please.” The ache in his voice, the plea, had Wyatt nearly launching onto him, kissing him thoroughly, greedily.
John grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragging him against him, returning the kiss with just as much force. Wyatt’s ears roared with the thundering sound of his heartbeat, and he melted into him, fingers clawing through his thick, sexy beard.
A beard, he decided, John could never shave off.
He pulled back, catching his breath and flushed with desire. Those were the kisses they shared in the privacy of the hotel rooms, not in public. When he had asked John for the kiss earlier on the phone, he hadn’t anticipated it to be a passionate one, but tame and appropriate for public viewing.
John seemed to be thinking the same thing as he said, “That wasn’t the kiss I was expecting.”
Wyatt grinned, “I’m marking my territory.”
John’s laugh lines crinkled once more, and fuck, it was dreamy. He needed to make his man laugh more often.
His man.
“I’m serious,” Wyatt said earnestly. “You’re a newly gay man at the gayest art show in LA right now. I’m not risking a single person here thinking you’re available.”
“I’m not, am I?” John asked quietly, eyes locked with his.
“No,” he whispered. “Just in case you were wondering, I like you, too.”
Emotion flickered across John’s face, and he released him, fixing Wyatt’s crumpled silk suit shirt and jacket. “Well, that can mean only one thing, Dr. Lawson.”
Wyatt watched the transformation to Dr. Donnelly, and his cock thickened between his legs.
“We agree upon treatment and should proceed accordingly.”
“Which is?”
John licked his lips, intentionally keeping Wyatt close, as though unable to tolerate the slightest amount of distance. “We date. Go out. Fuck, as often as humanly possible. And we forget the rules. They don’t matter anymore.”
His heart skipped, lungs constricting with an elation he wasn’t anticipating. Did he really mean it? Did he want to date—openly? Without the stupid rules caging them? Hope pierced through his chest, getting far too close to his heart.
John swept an appreciative gaze over his body. “I haven’t told you how good you look yet. And fuck…” he drawled out that word, lighting the match to the gasoline in Wyatt’s veins. “You look good. Really good.”
Wyatt, like a moth to a flame, inched closer, his stomach swooping. “You like what you see, daddy?”
John sucked in a breath, eyes dilating at the title.
Wyatt liked seeing him squirm with desire.
He wondered how hard his cock was, because Wyatt’s was, and he liked this teasing game a little too much.
He glanced heatedly over his body. John wore a light blue suit in a muted shade that perfectly matched his dark brown hair and complexion, paired with an open white V-neck shirt beneath and tanned loafers.
He looked like he just walked out of a magazine shoot.
“I like what I see, too,” he breathed, fingers itching to take what was his.
John suddenly stepped forward and kissed him hard. “You’re killing me, baby,” he rasped against his lips. “This is supposed to be our first date. But you make me wanna drag you into the nearest fucking closet and… fuck…”
John kissed him again before tearing his lips away, taking a giant step backward. Heart galloping like a stampede, Wyatt shot him a mischievous grin, which John returned, looking rakishly bashful.
He loved John’s duality—one moment being strong, confident, and effortlessly masculine, to the next being gentle, modest, and ridiculously cute.
John lifted curious fingers to his lips, his head tilting. “Is that vodka and cranberry juice I’m tasting?”
Heat pooled into Wyatt’s veins, liking that John knew what the inside of his mouth tasted like. “Yeah, it was a mystery drink.”
Wyatt spotted the waitress with the cat ears and tail and waved her his way. John smiled politely at her, choosing the bright pink drink from her tray.
“That's my favorite,” cat-ears said. “Rum, mango blend.”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“The pink matches your outfit too, Zaddy,” she cooed, biting her lower lip and eyebrows wiggling before sauntering away.
John laughed. It was loud, easy, and so fucking delicious that a few heads turned in their direction, and Wyatt had the absurd urge to throw a blanket over his head.
“Oh God, it’s already starting,” he moaned, pinching the brim of his nose. “I can’t take you anywhere. You’ll be eaten alive.”
“I don’t get out much, if I’m being honest. So far, this is great.”
“New rule…” Wyatt declared, resisting the need to flee the den of hornets.
John’s eyebrows raised. “I thought we weren’t going to have rules anymore?”
“You’re right, we aren’t,” Wyatt replied, using his own official doctor tone, “Complete transparency between us, here on out. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” John nodded. “I can live with that.”
“Okay, so, here it goes. Truth is, I had no idea that the art show was like this when I invited you,” he said, cringing slightly.
John unexpectedly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Wyatt decided that this flustered neck rub that Dr. John-Fuck-Me-Please-Donnelly did was his latest obsession.
“I’m fine with it,” he said genuinely, glancing around the art gallery.
Surprised, Wyatt stared, “Really?”
“Really.”
“So, this doesn’t—uh, make you uncomfortable?”
“Why would it? We see all kinds of people all day long. These are just photographed well and not maimed, broken, or bloodied.”
“True.” Wyatt nodded, realizing that he should have known John would respond so well. He was kind. A trait that many people overlooked. He appreciated John even more for it now.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted softly.
They stared at one another, and Wyatt wanted to kiss him again.
“Me too,” he replied. “I’m sorry for how I ended our call today.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I did worry about it,” John whispered, stepping closer.
“A lot, actually. Because even though I didn’t mean to say it, I meant it.
I like you, Wyatt. I do. And, I’m sorry for the rules.
I thought that by making them, it would protect me from getting attached to this,” he glanced from his lips to his eyes, “to you.”
Wyatt’s stomach swirled like a dust tornado.
“The problem is, it didn’t work,” John admitted. “Now, I think it’s time we had fun together, outside the ED and bedroom.” His fingers reached for his, grasping and squeezing.
Wyatt realized that John was asking without words to hold his hand.
His heart fluttered and he swallowed, nodding, and together they took a tour around Jin’s art gallery. And Wyatt was pretty sure he was walking on clouds, never feeling this light before in his life.
They tilted their heads to the side and slowly backed up, trying to find the right angle for the overexposed portrait of a gymnast doing a back-breaking bend, nude, with a black-and-white studio in the background.
“Double-jointed,” John declared. “Gotta be.”
“Maybe just really bendy,” Wyatt replied, tilting his head to the other side to see how the man managed to arch so deeply. “Or missing a couple of ribs?”
John hummed, considering, looking mildly impressed and amused.
They managed to get through nearly half of the gallery, taking their time, talking and laughing, holding hands, and sneaking glimpses at one another.
Wyatt had never felt giddy before, but he was now, and he couldn’t stop smiling.
Which he knew was ridiculous, but he didn’t care.
John was confident and utterly at ease with himself and everything around him.
Wyatt had seen glimmers of this version of John when he first started working with him at the hospital, but over the last six months, John had gotten quieter, smiled less, and had become somewhat moody, if not irritable.
Almost as though a darkness had settled over him that he couldn’t shake.
He wanted to know what had happened to him, but he knew they’d eventually have that conversation. Right now, he wanted to enjoy this—him.
“I believe at art shows, you’re supposed to be looking more at the art than the person you're with,” John commented smoothly, bringing Wyatt’s hand up and pressing it to his lips, not taking his gaze off the gymnast portrait.
Wyatt flushed, feeling the bearded kiss over his knuckles.
It could be like this.
Just like this—with him.
Always.
Wyatt swallowed, emotion gripping his heart like a vice, wondering if this was…
“Jelly,” a voice drawled behind Wyatt, making him jerk and spin, seeing Jin had gathered his art friends and had swarmed them.
Shit.
“Oh, my Daddy,” a gorgeous drag queen said in a stunning pink sequin gown with matching high heels, her gaze raking up and down John’s form.
Jin stepped forward, eyes darting between them, jaw unhinged.
Wyatt cleared his throat, “Jin—meet Dr. John Donnelly.”
The group of art friends swooned over the title, and Wyatt immediately regretted it.
“More like Dr. Daddy,” one of Jin’s friends hummed.
“You know them both?” another friend from the group asked, amazed. “Jesus, I need to up my game to hang with you, Jin.”
“You didn’t tell me!” Jin growled angrily at him before shooting John a serene smile, “Hi.” Jin then promptly twirled on his heel, hands whipping out in a flourish. “Ladies, do you mind giving us a sec?”
His group of friends sighed longingly and nodded, shooting Wyatt and John lingering glances before strolling away.
“Jin’s my best friend and roommate,” Wyatt explained to John, who politely held out his hand in greeting.
“Nice to meet you,” John said, and they shook hands. “The art show is fantastic. Wyatt told me you curated the pieces. You have excellent taste.”
Jin squirmed in delight. “Thank you. Glad you’re enjoying it, Dr. Donnelly.”
“Please, call me John.”
Wyatt tried not to laugh at Jin gushing and could empathize with his bestie. He, too, gushed whenever John stared a little too long.
Jin’s gaze cut icily to Wyatt’s, narrowing a fraction. “You didn’t mention who your date was, darling.”
“Didn’t know I had to, darling,” Wyatt retorted smoothly.
“You should establish a safe word, right now. We’re two hours into this showing, and queens are getting slouched. The daddies are always the first in line to be targeted, like Val Kilmer in jean shorts.”
John let out a yelp of laughter and Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Fine, our safe word is…”
“Cardialgia?” John suggested.
Wyatt hummed, nodding. “Excellent suggestion, Dr. Donnelly. We can also consider proctalgia.”
“Good physicians always have multiple strategies or possibilities…”
“Stop speaking in tongues!” Jin snapped. “I can only hold them at bay for so long.”
“What about the after party?” Wyatt asked teasingly of his bestie.
“You’re not serious,” Jin shot back.
“Almost always, babe, you know that,” Wyatt replied.
Jin’s after-party last year had been legendary, mostly due to Wyatt’s contribution.
Jin pushed his fingers into his forehead, shaking his head. “I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“What’s happening?” John asked, eyes bouncing between them.
Wyatt paused, frowning, “My safety?”
“I was going to surprise you,” Jin sighed. “I booked the Bull Horn.”
Fuck yes!
“What’s the Bull Horn?” John asked.
Wyatt grinned, raking his fingers through his hair, wishing he had brought his hat.
Jin noted the gesture and crossed his arms over his waist. “Your hat is in my office. And a change of clothes.”
He nearly danced in delight and grabbed Jin, bear-hugging him. “You do love me.”
“I so do. It’s awful. Let go,” Jin muttered.
“Still don’t know what’s happening,” John commented.
Jin smirked, “You’re in for a treat, Dr. Donnelly. Show starts at 10pm, cowboy. Don’t be late.”