Stretching, Ian wrapped his arms around Bran’s neck and pulled him back down for another. Running his tongue over the seam of Bran’s lips, Ian wanted to jump for joy when Bran opened for him. At his first taste, Ian closed his eyes and let loose a moan. How can one man taste so right?
Taking the kiss deeper, Bran turned them and lifted Ian onto the counter, barely missing the bottles of beer. Ian wrapped his lips around Bran’s tongue, sucking it into his own mouth, his hands threading through the short black curls of Bran’s hair. Oh, oh this is nice, Ian thought as he continued to assault Bran’s mouth.
Ian was pulled to the edge of the countertop as Bran insinuated himself further between Ian’s already spread thighs. Grinding against Ian’s erection, Bran moaned and broke their kiss. “I want you.”
“Yes,” Ian’s head fell back, pushing his cock against Bran’s.
Scooping him off the counter, Bran headed towards the living room. Ian wrapped his legs around Bran’s waist and held on, burying his face in Bran’s shoulder. “Which way?” Bran asked, squeezing Ian’s ass.
“Last door on the left,” he managed to pant, licking at Bran’s neck.
“Hold on,” Bran said, readjusting Ian in his arms.
For life, Ian thought.
Chapter Three
Bran let Ian down beside the bed and started working on his dress shirt. “Need to see you,” Bran said.
Ian’s skin tingled as Bran’s fingers brushed his bare skin. When was the last time someone undressed him? Ian couldn’t remember, it felt like his whole existence centred in this room. He stood still while Bran finished unbuttoning him. When his shirt was open, he closed his eyes as Bran sat on the edge of the bed and began touching and kissing his chest.
“Beautiful,” Bran whispered, seconds before latching on to his pebbled nipple. Ian knew he wasn’t beautiful, but he’d worked damn hard on his body over the past year, giving his chest definition. Every day he wasn’t puking from the chemo, he’d tried to do something physical, even when all he wanted was to curl up in bed. The chemo totally zapped his energy, but his spirit was stronger and he knew if he allowed himself to give into depression he might as well make funeral arrangements.
Bran’s teeth bit gently into the flesh around the hardened nub of his breast. Ian moaned and arched his torso pulling away slightly. Bran wasn’t having it and gripped Ian’s hips, bringing him closer. When Ian was standing snug between Bran’s open thighs, Bran began unfastening Ian’s dress pants. As the slacks slid to his ankles, a hand covered his erection. Bran stroked Ian through his boxer-briefs and pulled off his nipple to look him in the eyes.
Bran cupped his sac, and Ian felt his body tense. No one had touched him there in passion since his operation. Instead of acknowledging the sudden tension in the room, Bran pulled Ian’s briefs down and buried his face in Ian’s groin.
He felt soft fingers tracing the length of his cock, as Bran’s tongue branded the flesh of his sac. Reaching out, Ian had to hold onto Bran’s shoulders to keep himself upright. “Feel’s good,” he groaned, the awkwardness already fading. He buried his fingers in Bran’s black curls as his cock was swallowed. “Oh, fuck.” The slide of Bran’s tongue on the underside of his throbbing cock combined with the sensation of Bran’s hot mouth, had Ian trembling. “Can’t do this, gonna come.” He tried to pull back, but Bran grabbed his ass and hung on.
Ian’s hips began to move of their own accord and soon he felt the first jet of seed escaping his body. Bran swallowed around his cock, prolonging his climax. Shit, it has never been like this.
Bran released his cock and stood, Ian began unbuttoning the much taller man’s shirt. “That wasn’t a very safe thing to do. You’re supposed to be a doctor, into health and all that.”
Bran ran his hands down Ian’s sides, and blushed. “You make me forget, everything I’ve learned to protect myself goes right out the window when I’m with you.” Bran suddenly looked a little solemn, “You’re dangerous for me.”
Pushing the shirt off Bran’s broad shoulders, Ian buried his face in the short black curls of Bran’s chest. Inhaling, Ian smelled the citrus cologne he loved so much. “You make me want.”
“Good,” Bran chuckled. “At least I know I’m not the only one.” Bran leaned down and kissed Ian, the kiss going deeper until Bran began groaning. “Let’s get naked and under the covers.”
“Race ya,” Ian laughed as he pulled off his shoes.
“Not fair, you’re already practically naked,” Bran said, pulling his slacks down.
“You complaining?” Ian asked slipping under the covers.
“Hell, no,” Bran grinned and kicked off his shoes. He crawled in beside Ian and moulded his body around Ian’s much smaller frame. God, he loved the feel of Bran’s weight surrounding him. Despite his brave front, it had been a hell of a year and it was nice to finally feel like a man again.
Ian reached down and grasped Bran’s erection. “It’s payback time,” Ian said as he started to make his way down Bran’s powerful body.
Bran caught him under his arms and pulled him back up. “I want to make love to you, if that’s alright?”
“Alright? Shit, you’re talking to the original bottom-boy.” Damn, maybe Bran likes to be fucked as well. He looked into Bran’s blue eyes. “Of course if you’d like me to…well, you know, I could probably learn.”
Bran seemed stunned for a second. “You’ve never taken a turn on top?”
“Well, technically, yes. I do like a good ride from the top occasionally, but no, I’ve never fucked anyone.” He grinned, feeling his cheeks go pink.
Pulling Ian tighter into his embrace, Bran kissed him again, shorter this time but just as erotic. “I’ve only allowed it a couple of times, but maybe someday…” Bran stopped suddenly. He gave his head a brief shake and rolled on top of Ian. “Stuff?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ian pointed towards the drawer, unable to reach it with Bran’s weight on top of him.
With his long arms, Bran easily opened the drawer and came back with the lube and a condom. He unscrewed the tube and slicked his fingers. Maintaining eye contact, Bran made his first pass over Ian’s puckered hole.
“Oh,” Ian moaned, spreading his legs as far as he could. Bran patiently slid one finger inside, holding still, allowing Ian’s body time to settle. “Good, oh so good,” Ian said, tossing his head from side to side as Bran moved the long digit in and out of his body. “More,” he cried.
Bran pulled out and then back in with two fingers. Ian closed his eyes and let himself enjoy every second of Bran’s touch. “Now,” he finally moaned, unable to keep his hips from thrusting against Bran.
The beautiful stretch was suddenly gone and Ian almost whimpered. He opened his eyes and looked directly into Bran’s blue depths. As Bran opened the foil packet and rolled the condom on, Ian’s body trembled. Pumping his covered cock, Bran positioned himself at Ian’s well stretched hole. Ian couldn’t help but feel he was looking into the face of his future. Don’t be stupid, he lectured himself. It’s one night, their first fuck, so what if I’ve dreamt about it for the past year. He knew he was being irrational about the whole thing. No one finds their soul mate in an oncologist’s office.
Bran slowly pushed inside and Ian stopped thinking. All he could do was feel. The entire world narrowed to one section of his body. He moaned as he felt every centimetre of Bran’s cock slowly invade his passage. The stretch was welcome, the burn almost non-existent, only the utter joy of bliss crept into his mind. He began babbling, of what, he didn’t know, but whatever he said seemed to spur Bran on. In one powerful thrust, he was impaled on Bran’s cock. “Oh god, oh god, so good,” Ian continued to murmur.
Reaching down, Ian fisted his shaft as Bran pistoned his hips against Ian’s ass. Each thrust harder on every surge, Ian stroking himself to Bran’s rhythm. Oh it was so delicious, so right. Ian felt himself take flight high above the bed as his seed warmed his torso with jet after jet of cum.
Bran grow
led his name as he thrust in once more, the bigger man shaking with the force of his release. Ian pulled Bran down on top of him and buried his face in Bran’s hair as they both tried to regain their breath. “I lo…” Ian barely stopped the words from escaping. Shit, shit, shit.
With a grunt, Bran rolled to his side. He disposed of the used condom and fell back onto the bed. Eyelids drooping, he pulled Ian against his chest. When Ian glanced up, Bran was still looking up at the ceiling. Ian had to wonder whether he was regretting what they’d just done. Ian couldn’t though, never would he forget this night. It was worth going through the trouble of finding a new doctor and having his records transferred. “You okay?”
“Huh?” Bran asked, apparently in his own world.
“I was just wondering if you were still with me?” Ian asked again, petting the hair on Bran’s chest.
Bran squeezed him tighter, “I’m here. Thinking about taking a little nap though.”
Ian yawned at the mention of sleep. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” The two snuggled together and drifted off, Ian still feeling apprehensive about Bran’s change in mood.
The next time Ian opened his eyes it was to find himself alone. “Bran?” Ian waited a few seconds and called even louder, the sound echoing off the walls of the house. When no answer came, he looked over the side of the bed and sighed when he realised Bran’s clothes were gone. Falling back onto his pillow, he blinked away the threat of tears. “I’ll just call him in a few days, and try to find out what happened,” he said to the quiet room.
Old feelings of inadequacy crept into bed with him. Bran was a physician, he was absolutely fucking gorgeous, how could a scrawny red-head hope to keep someone like his attention?
Close to dawn, Ian finally fell back into a fitful sleep, feeling worse about himself than he had in ages.
Chapter Four
For two days Bran managed to skirt him. Every time Ian called the office, the receptionist would tell him Bran was with a patient and she’d leave a message that Ian had called. He punched in the numbers deciding to try once more.
“Ryan, Coutler and Briggs,” the receptionist said.
“Hi, Nancy, it’s Ian again. I don’t suppose Dr. Ryan is available?” He closed his eyes, ashamed of himself for caring so much.
“I’m sorry, Ian, Dr. Ryan has decided to take the rest of the week off. Is there a problem? Dr. Coutler is in the office today. I’m sure we can squeeze you in.”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Ian took a deep breath. “But I would like to schedule an appointment with either Dr. Coutler or Dr. Briggs and cancel my monthly appointment with Dr. Ryan.”
“It’s already been done. You should be getting a postcard reminder in the mail the week before. Dr. Ryan had it scheduled for the same time as your last one but with Dr. Briggs.”
“Oh,” Ian felt as though he was about to throw-up. Well if that wasn’t a definite hint that Bran never wanted to see him again, he didn’t know what was. “Okay, thanks, Nancy.”
“You take care, Ian.”
Hanging up the phone, Ian slid his way down the cabinet to sit on the floor. With his knees bent, he buried his face in his hands. Unsure of whether he felt like throwing up or breaking down, Ian wrapped his arms around his waist and rocked himself. He remembered his mom sitting up with him when he was sick as a boy. She’d pull him to her bosom and rock him until he fell asleep.
God, he wished his mother was still alive. Friends were nice, but nothing took the place of a family’s love. Well, he’d thought he’d found a close second in the feelings he’d developed for Bran, but just like his mother, Bran had taken his love and left. Shit, that wasn’t fair. His mom hadn’t left him like Bran had done. It wasn’t her fault she’d been struck down with a brain aneurism his freshman year at college. It was life. People got sick, people die, and more are born to take their place. It was the way of the world.
Ian looked at the paintings spread out over the kitchen table. He’d decided to work from home the last couple of days, unwilling to be part of the whole happy office atmosphere. Now, as he stood and walked over to the illustrations, he shook his head. What were supposed to be watercolours of a chipper farm mouse had turned into the depressing pictures in his mind. Instead of using happy blues and yellows, Ian had painted the entire series in grey and black. “Somehow I don’t think nightmares are the theme the author was trying for,” Ian taunted himself, hands running through the short strands of auburn hair.
Feeling like he just wanted to crawl under the covers, Ian walked towards the bedroom. Stripping, he stopped and looked around the room. Fuck, what was he doing? He hadn’t allowed the cancer to get him down, or the fact that one of his balls was now floating in a jar of formaldehyde in someone’s lab. Why was he letting Bran’s rejection tear him apart?
“Fuck him,” Ian shouted. He moved past hurt and straight to pissed. No, he was more than pissed, he was livid. Ian had a feeling he knew exactly where Bran would run, the beach house. Walking to the closet, he pulled down his old backpack and stuffed a change of clothes and his toothbrush inside. Slinging it over his shoulder, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
* * * *
Unshaven, Bran sat on the beach, wrapped in a heavy blanket. He stared out to sea looking for answers. With his mind in turmoil there was no way he could stay in the city and treat patients. When he’d caught himself writing the wrong dosage for a prescription he’d put an end to it. A request for an immediate mini-vacation had followed, and here he was. No better than he’d been two days earlier, but at least he wasn’t risking anyone’s life, only his own sanity.
Thoughts of Ian had kept him awake since the night he’d snuck out of Ian’s bed. He was still ashamed for the way he’d handled it, but it had all been too much. Bran had never been in love and didn’t even know if he was experiencing the beginning stages of it, but it was more than he’d ever allowed himself to feel.
Making love, and that’s exactly what it had felt like, was also a new experience. Used to one night stands, and no-strings relationships, Bran had never before hungered for someone like he did for Ian. And as he’d watched Ian sleep, Bran had known, he’d never survive if something happened to the man by his side.
It was pitiful for a highly qualified oncologist to have a fear of death, but it had plagued Bran for years, since the death of one of his earliest patients. Emily had been a thirty-two-year old mother of three diagnosed with uterine cancer. She’d had a complete hysterectomy and Bran was sure there wouldn’t be a reoccurrence. A year and a half later, tests revealed her cancer had spread to her lungs. Bran shook off the memories, unwilling to revisit the months Emily spent trying every treatment option available, only to die of pneumonia at the age of thirty-four.
Even the thought of Ian getting sick again, tore at his heart. What would it be like if he allowed himself to get even closer to the fun-loving man? As Bran stared at the surf, he spotted something rolling along the waters edge. “Damn thoughtless tourists discarding their trash again,” he huffed. Dropping his blanket, Bran headed towards the glass bottle. Having to chase it as the sea tried to once again claim it’s treasure, he lunged for it, soaking his jeans. He held the bottle up to the fading evening sky and saw it wasn’t trash at all, but an old bottle with a stopper in the top. The dry rolled piece of paper inside, told him the contents hadn’t been damaged although it appeared it had been adrift for a while.
Taking his bounty back to his blanket, Bran wrapped himself up. He knew he should probably head back to the house, but the place was too lonely. Pulling on the bottle’s tight cork, Bran shook it until a tightly rolled piece of paper fell out along with a necklace. He held the necklace up to the fading light, noticing the beautiful green stone encased in a spiral of tarnished silver. Slipping the necklace back in the bottle for safe keeping he started reading the enclosed note.
A stone that’s blessed by lovers’ hands
To bless the wearer with a love that stands.
T
hrough time and toil, no stopping fate
As lovers unite, no hand can break.
So take this token and wear it true,
Destiny awaits with love for you.
A favour I ask from you to me
Once blessed return my gift to the sea.
For others await the hand of fate
My blessing to love’s true mates.
Bran was surprised when he heard his name. Without reading the rest of the note, Bran quickly rolled it back up and stuck it in the bottle. Sealing it with the cork he whipped around and spotted Ian stalking towards him, the sand flying as his feet ate up the distance.
Bran stood, the bottle dropping to the sand along with his blanket. “How did you find me?” he asked when Ian got within ten feet of him. God he looked good when he was pissed. Ian’s short hair was barely long enough to blow in the ocean-side breeze, his flushed cheeks, either a result of anger or the chilly weather.
Ian stopped in front of Bran and put his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t hard. Came to town, asked around.” He looked down the beach. “Nice people around here, eager to help a cancer survivor who’s searching for his oncologist.”
That surprised Bran. He didn’t think anyone in the area even knew he existed. “What do you want, Ian?” Bran asked, schooling his face so as not to show how much he’d missed the man.
Ian continued to look everywhere but at Bran. “Well see, that’s the thing. If you’d asked me this morning, I would’ve said to rip your head off. By the time I got to Galilee, I’d cooled down a good bit, and I decided I just needed answers. But walking onto your beach and seeing you there, wrapped up in the ragged blanket like you didn’t have a friend in the world…” Ian rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “The first thing I thought of was hugging you, letting you know that nothing can be as bad as all that.” Ian reached out and put his hand on Bran’s shoulder. “I’m not sure why you ran, but I can tell by looking at you, something’s eating you up.” Ian moved his hand to the back of Bran’s neck and pulled him down. “Let me in,” he whispered a split second before he covered Bran’s lips in one of the tenderest kisses Bran had ever received.
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