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35

Paul

G et. Me. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.

While I’ve been allowed to get up and move around and take a piss on my own, I’m going stir-crazy. I’ve been on the go for years. Between school and hockey, I’m only still if I’m injured or sick. Hospital beds suck ass, the food is bland, and it doesn’t have Brendon.

Watching my team play on the TV sucks too. I want to at least sit in the stands and cheer for my team. I want to be there in the locker room after the game to celebrate the win or console them after a loss. No athlete was made to sit in a hospital bed while their team plays.

My abdomen is sore, the three little puncture wounds from the surgery are glued shut and bruised, but I feel a lot better than I did before the surgery. I have to be careful moving around for a while, I get that, but I want out of here.

The doctor comes in finally, looks at the surgery site, and tells me I can go home.

Picking up the phone, I dial the only other number I have memorized besides my grandparents’—Brendon.

“Oiler’s Pizzeria and Crematorium, our ovens are always on.” There’s noise in the background that sounds like he may be at breakfast.

I chuckle and have to put a hand on my stomach when the muscles pull.

“You’re an idiot.”

“P Dawg!” His shout is so loud I have to pull the receiver away from my ear. “It liiiiiiiives! Bwahahaha!”

In the background is a chorus of “Paul” and “Johnson,” and it makes me smile.

“Your evil laugh needs some work, my guy.”

Brendon must turn the phone away from his mouth or covers the speaker because I can’t hear what he says, but when he comes back, it's quieter.

“Hey, husband.” His voice is softer this time. It’s intimate and quiet. The tone warms my heart. Seeing him last night was exactly what I needed, and he obviously needed it too since he was a mess. That’s it. I can’t hide him anymore. From the moment I opened my eyes after surgery, I’ve only wanted him with me. It’s killing me not to be with him. I’m done hiding.

“Hello, husband.” I close my eyes and picture him in my mind. “Come get me?”

“Seriously?! They’re letting you out?” I can feel his excitement through the phone. It’s so pure, almost childlike, and it’s infectious. I love that he still gets excited over things, doesn’t try to be cool or fit in. He wasn’t meant to fit in.

“Yeah, come get me, baby.”

He moans, and I wish I could see his face. “I love when you call me that.”

I will definitely remember that . . .

“I need clothes. Will you bring me something? And my phone.”

The chuckle that leaves him is devious.

“Brendon, normal clothes from my dresser.”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” he huffs.

“Yo!” someone yells in the background. “That Johnson?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go grab him some clothes and go get him.”

“Cool, man,” whoever it is says, then yells at the phone. “Hope you feel better, man!”

“Everyone says hi and shit,” Brendon tells me. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Thanks.”

Brendon arrives wearing my hat and a dopey grin on his face, carrying a bag.

“Your clothes, sire.” He bows and lifts the bag to me.

I grab the bag and his hand, pulling him toward me, and lift my mouth to his. He kisses me with a smile on his face. His nose is swollen and bruised with white tape across it. He also looks like he’s got black eyes, probably from the pooling of the blood in his face.

“How’s your honker?” I press my lips against his again, in a soft, easy pressure that I feel low in my pelvis.

“What’s wrong with it? I got a booger or something?” Brendon taps at his upper lip carefully. I shake my head and toss the blankets back so I can move to the edge of the mattress and put my feet on the floor. I have to move slowly, but I manage.

Brendon moves back to give me room, but I reach for his purple Darby U hoodie and pull him between my thighs. Wrapping my arms around him, I lean my cheek against his chest and sigh. I needed this. Brendon wraps his arms around my shoulders and holds me while I snake my hands under his shirt to find his skin.

“Do we have time for mostly naked cuddles when we get back?” I ask with my eyes closed, breathing him in.

“Maybe for a few minutes.” Brendon runs his hand through my hair and down my back.

“Okay, untie me.”

He pulls the strings on the back of the gown and pushes it down my shoulders.

“Is it weird that this is turning me on?” Brendon asks, and I smirk as I look up at him.

“Which part? Me being injured or undressing me?”

“The undressing of a hospital gown so . . . both?” He thinks about it as he hands me a shirt. “I guess I have a doctor-patient fantasy?”

“Okay, but that does sound hot. Do you want to be the doctor or the patient?” I pull on underwear, grateful he didn’t bring one of his weird pairs or something. When I stand to pull the underwear and sweats up, Brendon reaches for the waistband and does it himself while keeping our eyes locked together.

“I don’t like having to be the adult here, but right now I’m desperate to touch you.” His words are quiet, like he’s afraid of being overheard, but so full of need it hurts. “Please don’t make me adult anymore.”

“I’ll do my best.” I kiss him again, just a quick brush of lips while my dick thickens.

“How long until you can fuck again?”

“Doctor said about two weeks.”

Brendon groans and drops his forehead to my shoulder.

“You’ll be okay, cumslut. I’ll still be able to get you off.”

He shivers, a breath catching in his throat, and thrusts his hips against my leg.

I kiss his hair, and he backs up, pulling socks and shoes from the bag.

“Sit,” he instructs, and since I don’t really want to bend that far, I do what I was told.

He finishes getting me dressed, helps me into a matching hoodie, and I steal my hat back.

A nurse comes in with my discharge instructions and a brown bag with the pain meds I’m being sent home with. I’m told what to look for in case of problems, and that if I don’t rest, I’ll fuck myself up.

Brendon grabs my hand and leads us back to my car. I don’t pull my hand away even though a nagging voice in the back of my head says I should. Someone could see us, and the news could spread through the team in a heartbeat, but I just don’t care right now. I need the comfort of his touch more than I need the secret.

We get in the car and get out of the parking garage with my hand on Brendon’s thigh.

“So . . .” He trails off, and I wait for him to figure out what he’s going to say. He cracks his knuckles and rotates his wrists before sucking in a deep breath. “Preston and Jeremy know we’re married.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but that wasn’t it. I sit back in the seat and think about it for a minute.

Did I want to be there when they found out? Yes.

Am I upset they know? No.

“What did they say?”

“Well, Jeremy is not amused that we kept it from him, but he doesn’t care otherwise. And who the hell knows what Preston thinks?”

I chuckle because that’s fair. Dude isn’t a big talker.

“Are you mad?” Brendon sounds so small, so fearful, it breaks my heart. Even if I was mad, his fear would take the wind out of my sails.

“No, I’m not mad. Tell me what happened.”

He visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping, and one hand starts moving as he talks.

“After I was released from the ER last night, I wanted to see you. They had come after the game and waited for me, so when I came up here, they followed. The nurse was not very nice and said only family could go back after visiting hours.” He takes a deep breath and clicks his tongue. “I may have yelled at her that you’re my husband, so she gave me five minutes.”

This story is so Brendon that I can’t help but laugh. It hurts to laugh, but Jesus, that’s funny.

“I love you,” I say between chuckling and holding my stomach.

“I love you too, obviously.”

Brendon lifts my hand from his lap and kisses my palm, then bites the fleshy part between my index finger and thumb.

“Hey, we don’t bite!”

He lets go but has a devious smile on his face. “You do too bite. I have it tattooed on my neck.”

Out of nowhere, Brendon stops the car in the middle of the road and climbs out. I don’t even have time to ask why. The cold air blasts me from the open door, and I watch as he rushes into the street and picks something up, then runs back.

Is that a dog?

Brendon gets back in the car and slams the door closed holding a shaking white puppy.

“What the hell are you going to do with that?” I ask him and take it as he hands it over. The poor thing is shivering and wet. I look in the back and find a T-shirt to wrap around it and hold it against my chest so it’s not pushing against the surgery site.

The puppy has a light brown patch around the left eye and right ear. It’s adorable, and I love dogs, but we live in the dorms which have a strict no pets policy. Plus we have nothing for it, and we have classes and hockey.

“I couldn’t just leave it in the middle of the road where it would get hit by a car!” Brendon blasts the heater, and I point one vent toward the dog to help dry it. “Do you know how to tell the sex of it?”

I roll my eyes and lift the puppy up to look. “Boy.”

“My little buddy.” Brendon scratches the puppy’s chin.

“You can’t keep him. You know that, right?”

The puppy puts his head on my shoulder and settles against me. Damn it. That’s cute as fuck.

“You don’t have dog food or toys or bowls or a leash or—”

“But I can get it.” He shrugs. “He’s a baby. I’ll figure it out.”

I cuddle the puppy for the last few minutes of our drive, then wrap him up better for Brendon to carry inside. He basically looks like a lump of laundry, which is fine.

It’s lunchtime, so the hallway is pretty empty, thankfully.

We get inside, and Brendon sets the puppy on his bed, scrubbing his fur carefully to help dry him, then finds a ratty towel to wrap him up in.

I sit on the bed and yawn. I’m exhausted.

“Why don’t you rest for a while? I’ll get lunch and bring you back something, then we can get dressed for the game.”

I check the time, and we have a few hours before we have to be there, so I kick off my shoes and settle back on the bed.

“Bring me the puppy.” I sigh and turn on my side. Brendon’s smile is triumphant as he hands me the wrapped-up dog.

I get him situated against my chest, and he gives my chin a little lick before sighing and laying his head on my arm. It’s adorable, I can’t deny that. He’s cute as fuck, and if we didn’t live in the damn dorms, I would absolutely be down to keep him, but we can lose our housing if they catch him in here.

Brendon leaves, and before the door is closed, I’m out.