All Cocks Stories Box Set Volume 2

by Smith,T. M.

  “I thought my brother was gonna kill me, but my mom came home and pulled him off me. But she kept saying it was a sin, an abomination, that I couldn’t be gay.” David stared down at his lap, absentmindedly picking at the stitching of the blanket that covered him with the hand that Dusty wasn’t holding. “She called her minister and the three of them sat me down in the kitchen, told me I was mistaken and if I’d just ask God for help I would be okay.”

  Finally daring a glance at Dusty, David at least felt validated seeing the same pain he felt remembering that night mirrored in Dusty’s eyes. He reached up, cupping David’s cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, D. You do know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?” David nodded again, wondering when in the hell he’d lost the ability to talk. There was something about the man sitting next to him caressing his face that completely confused him. He was attentive, kind and genuine, but why?

  “I see your wheels turning again, D. I promised you I’d tell you everything eventually, and I meant it. Do you trust me when I say that I’m only looking out for you, what’s best for you?” Dusty eyed him warily, as if he thought David might actually say no.

  Almost involuntarily, David closed his eyes, sighing and leaning into the hand that still rested on his cheek. “Yeah, D, I trust you,” he whispered, and he did. There was no rhyme or reason, and Dusty had yet to tell David much of anything but he felt perfectly safe with the guy he was coming to think of as his guardian angel. Regardless of why or how Dusty was there, David wanted—no, needed—him there with him.

  Dusty laughed and the sound made David want to smile. “Hey, you call me D instead of David. So I get to call you D too, instead of Dusty. Seems like a fair trade off to me.” David huffed, drawing another soft laugh out of Dusty.

  “Well, somebody is feeling better.” Dusty joked. “Seriously though, I think I should probably head home and let you rest.”

  David frantically grabbed for Dusty’s hands when he stood, pulling him back down to the bed. “No, please, don’t leave. Stay with me,” he begged.

  “Okay D, if you want me to, I’ll stay.” Dusty threw caution to the wind, ignoring the nurse’s orders, and sat down on the side of the bed, pulling David’s now-shaking body into his arms. “Tell me why you’re shaking, D,” Dusty whispered into his silky blond hair. David heard the soft creak of the door and knew the nurse was back, but didn’t dare give her any of his attention. He just prayed she’d see what was actually going on and give them a pass.

  David drew in a couple ragged breaths before speaking. “I…I don’t know, D. I just…when you said you were leaving I was suddenly afraid; I don’t know why, I have this bad feeling about being left alone. Please don’t go.”

  Dusty held onto him a little tighter, rubbing his hand up and down David’s back in an attempt to calm him down. “If the nurses don’t mind, I’ll stay D, promise.”

  A third hand on David’s back had him sitting up. It was his nurse, Megan, and he prayed she wouldn’t kick Dusty out for catching him sitting on the bed again after warning them. She smiled sympathetically. “You okay, David?”

  “Yeah, I…I’m okay. Can Dusty stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

  Megan looked at her watch briefly. “Technically, visiting hours are over at nine. But…as long as you two promise me he won’t be sleeping in the bed with you, I’ll allow it.” She glared at them both, one eyebrow raised. They quickly agreed. “Okay then, I’ll have a sleeper brought down here for you, Dusty.” She moved around to the far side of the bed to check David’s monitor, still giving Dusty the stink eye.

  “Oh, sorry.” He stood and sat back down in the chair, grinning at her. David shook his head, turning and looking up at the nurse who was holding his wrist while looking at her watch.

  “Everything looks good here David, how are your pain levels right now?” she asked.

  He hadn’t even thought about his injuries until she said something. When he stopped focusing on Dusty he had to admit, his leg was throbbing and itching and his head still ached a bit. She pulled a syringe from her scrub pocket, popping the cap and injecting the pain meds into his IV. Almost immediately, he felt lightheaded.

  Megan patted his uncast leg as she passed the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you relax for a minute, David and I’ll take Dusty to get a blanket and pillow and find him some scrubs to change into.”

  David nodded, his eyelids growing heavy again. He only hoped that if he did dream again, it would be a much happier dream than the last one. Something naughty involving him and his guardian angel would be welcome.

  Chapter 3 | Coming Clean

  Dusty looked over his shoulder as he followed Megan down to the nurses’ station, waiting until they were farther down the hall to speak. “How long will he be out with that shot?”

  “A couple of hours at least, hopefully longer. I upped the dose since the last shot wore off so quickly. Why, what’s up?” she asked.

  “Is his doctor still making rounds?”

  She cocked her head, eyeing him curiously, before turning and opening one of the cabinets across from the nurses’ station and pulling out a pair of worn out scrubs for Dusty to change into. “I’ll page the doctor, but I’d like to know why you need him.”

  He grabbed the scrubs from her and took a few steps toward the restroom. “Can you please get his doctor down here? I’ll explain then.” She nodded and he turned, heading into the restroom to change.

  She was waiting for him when he came back out—hip cocked to one side, foot impatiently tapping the linoleum. “Spill.”

  Dusty shook his head and tried very hard not to laugh. She was persistent. “Is his doctor here?” She shook her head. “Okay, as soon as he gets here I’ll talk. But I’m not going through all this twice so…” He jerked his head toward the coffee machine. “…want some coffee?”

  When the doctor arrived, Megan led them into a small family waiting room and shut the door. Dusty figured it was best to come clean about everything, so he did. From the first night he heard Megan and another nurse talking in David’s room to his relationship with Kory and Jon. “I’ll admit, when I first walked into his room it was simply curiosity at best, but then when I saw him…” He trailed off, staring down at his feet, trying to find the right words, deciding what to say that wouldn’t get him kicked out of the hospital.

  “Go on,” the doctor prodded. Well, at least he doesn’t sound angry, Dusty thought.

  “As soon as I saw him and what his brother had done to him, all the anger I had over what Dale Thompson had done to my family seeped away. I realized that David was a victim as well, just as much as Gio who lay in the morgue and Jon who lay in a hospital bed just five doors down from David at the time. As days turned to weeks and no one ever came to see him, came to check on him, this protective instinct took over and I couldn’t walk away. In some insane twist of fate, I think I was brought into his life for a reason. Don’t know what that is yet, but I plan on sticking around and figuring it out.”

  The doctor stole a glance at Megan, the two of them seeming to communicate without words. She nodded at the doctor before turning to Dusty. “Why are you telling us all this now, Dusty? We were none the wiser and we are perfectly within our rights to keep you away from him, you have to know that. So why tell us all this?”

  “Because I need to know what to tell him and what not to tell him. He’s already asking questions and eventually, I’m going to have to answer them. But if I tell him everything now, before he remembers what happened to him…I don’t think he could handle that.” Dusty knew he sounded frantic, maybe a little bit mental, but he had to make them understand he truly meant David no harm.

  “All right young man, we are going to take you at your word for now.” There was an intensity in the doctor’s eyes that conveyed his seriousness. Dusty quickly nodded, releasing all the anxiety he’d been holding in since he sat down in the waiting room. “What does he remember so far?” the doctor a
sked.

  “When he first woke up he asked where his brother was. Thankfully, the nurse came in and he was distracted, so I didn’t have to deal with that. But then he had a dream about when he came out to his mother and brother and I think it skirted the line of a nightmare. He was flushed, sweaty and kind of incoherent when he first came to.” Dusty filled them in on David’s bad dream.

  “Oh, and he knows that he doesn’t know me know me, but he recognizes my voice and it comforts him. I know he deserves the truth about everything, but do you agree with me that I should wait to see if he remembers on his own?” Dusty looked to the doctor, certain he’d have an answer.

  The elderly man with graying black hair and intense blue eyes pursed his lips, slowly nodding his head. “Yes, I believe you are right about that, young man. Before you share anything with him though, I think we should get him set up with a psychiatrist, just to be safe. When he does finally remember what his brother did to him, it could have negative ramifications. I’ll put a request in to the hospital psych clinic—” Dusty cut the doctor off with a wave of his hand.

  “Actually, I know a therapist; I can call and ask him if he’ll talk to David. If that’s okay with you, of course.” Dusty rifled through his jeans pockets for his cell.

  “Who is this therapist you know? And how, exactly, do you know him?” Megan asked.

  Dusty scrolled through his contacts until he came to Tristan’s number. “He’s actually my best friend’s boyfriend’s brother, Tristan Brennan.”

  “Wait, Dusty, isn’t that Jon Brennan’s brother? I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Megan expressed concern over Dusty’s suggestion, considering who David was.

  “It’s fine, I promise. Tristan is a dedicated therapist who respects his oath. He won’t tell anyone anything. Even if he doesn’t want to take David on as a patient he’ll never breathe a word to anyone. He might kick my ass for keeping all of this a secret from the guys, but hey, that’s my problem, not yours.” Dusty tried to reassure Megan.

  “It’s okay, Megan.” The doctor patted her on the knee. “I’ve worked with Tristan Brennan in the past; he is a consummate professional.” He turned his gaze to Dusty. “Let me know what Tristan says.” Dusty nodded. The doctor stared at him for a few moments, seeming to contemplate what he wanted to say. “Keep in mind, David is in a fragile state, young man. I appreciate the care and concern you’ve shown him up to this point, and I trust your intentions will remain the same.” Before Dusty could respond, the doctor stood and left him and Megan alone in the waiting room.

  “I hope you’re right about this, Dusty. That poor boy has been through enough. I’ll leave you to make your call while I go check on David.” She left Dusty alone in the small waiting room.

  Dusty couldn’t help but think of the aphorism, The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Snorting, he turned, eyes landing on the coke machine in the corner that still had the dent from Kory’s boot where he kicked it the night of the shooting, when he learned of Gio’s death. “Jesus, talk about a small world,” Dusty murmured, pushing the phone icon next to Tristan’s name in his favorites.

  ***

  “I realize we don’t know each other very well, Dusty, but you couldn’t have thought I’d be happy about this.” Tristan sighed, pacing the open space in the small waiting room. “You do realize that this is the waiting room Kory, my family and I were confined to while my brother was in surgery fighting for his life after being shot by his fucking brother, right?” Tristan glared at him, shoving his thumb angrily in the direction of David’s hospital room.

  Dusty stood and held his hands up in surrender. “I know Tris, I know, but none of that is David’s fault. He’s just as much a victim as Jon was in all this.” Tristan stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. Dusty watched as the anger he saw in Tristan’s eyes slowly evaporated and his posture relaxed. Tristan rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, sighing. “I realize that Dusty, but this is still an injudicious decision on your part.” Before either of them could say anything more, Megan walked into the room, carrying David’s medical records.

  Tristan grabbed the file, plopping down in the chair next to Dusty. He reached over to turn a page to show Tristan the photos of what David looked like when he was admitted, only to have him smack his hand, hard. “Make yourself useful and go get me some coffee—black, two sugars.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Megan glared at Tristan.

  He didn’t even look up, simply waved his hand in the air. “Not you ma’am, him.” He jabbed that angry thumb in Dusty’s direction. She followed Dusty out of the room, cursing under her breath, stomping off to go check on David again.

  Tristan looked up when Dusty came back into the waiting room with two cups of coffee. “After reading this…” Tristan pointed to the file in his lap, “…I feel like I need something much stronger.” He took the offered cup, thanking Dusty, before diving right into what he gathered from David’s file.

  “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a person with this many injuries in my life. And I come from a family of men that have faced the worst kind of shit humanity can dump on people.” He turned to face Dusty. “I was always under the impression that the saying “beaten half to death” was just that, a saying. But this poor guy…” Tristan tapped the file once again, “…was literally beaten half to death.”

  Tristan took a drink of his coffee then sat it on the floor at his feet. “Okay, so he has no memory of the incident, right?” Dusty nodded. Tristan flipped to the back of the file he held, pointing at the images of David’s brain from the CT scan. “These images show that while the swelling on his brain is less severe than it was the night he was admitted, there are still a few areas larger than they should be. As the swelling continues to go down, he should essentially start to remember more.”

  Dusty agreed. “He had a bad dream and he was calling out for his mom, and when he came to, he was disoriented. I asked him about it once he calmed down and he told me he dreamed about the day he came out to his mother and brother. Let’s just say, they didn’t take it well at all. I got the impression his mom is one of those holy-roller religious fanatics that pick and choose which parts of the bible they want to follow, starting with the ones where Jesus supposedly told his disciples to burn all gay people at the stake.”

  Tristan snorted. “One of those, huh? Damn, this poor kid has been through it, hasn’t he?” Dusty was certain that was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother to answer. “What is it you are looking to accomplish here, Dusty?”

  That one was not rhetorical. Clearing his throat, Dusty decided to be honest with Tristan. “I’m not quite sure yet Tris. I feel…drawn to him for some reason. Very protective and, I haven’t taken the time to decipher that yet. All I know is he needs a friend in the worst way and I’m willing to be that for him.”

  Tristan watched him for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhaled and nodded briefly. “Okay Dusty, I’ll meet him and talk to him but I make no promises.”

  Dusty threw himself at Tristan, hugging him and thanking him profusely. Tristan laughed, grabbing Dusty by the arms and gently pushing him back to his seat. “Whoa.” They both laughed. “You do realize he has to agree to me being his therapist, right? That decision cannot be made by you or me, only by him.” Dusty didn’t like the sound of that. He tamped down his gut reaction to shout at Tristan and tell him, Oh hell yes you are going to be his therapist, period–barely.

  “All right, I think it’s time for you to introduce me to David.” Tristan stood and walked toward the door. He held the door open for Dusty, following him down the quiet hall to David’s room. There was an orderly in the room setting up a sleeper for Dusty; David sat watching the large man warily. As soon as he saw Dusty his frown morphed into a smile, eyes growing wide like saucers and he reached shaking hands out toward Dusty.

  “Who…who’s that?” David grabbed Dusty’s hand as soon as he was in arms’ reach, pointing one shaky finger tow
ard Tristan.

  “It’s okay D; this is a friend of mine. David, I’d like you to meet Tristan.” Dusty reassured him.

  Tristan stayed at the foot of the bed, hands in his jeans pockets, posture relaxed. Dusty figured he was trying to set David’s mind at ease. “It’s nice to meet you, Tristan.” David finally said.

  “Likewise, David,” Tristan responded with a smile.

  “Why is he here though, D?” David asked.

  “Well, I’m a licensed therapist, David. Dusty called and asked if I would come talk to you, see how you are doing with the whole memory loss thing.” Dusty watched the interaction between them. He admired how unassuming but straightforward Tristan was when speaking to David. His tone was soft and even, he didn’t use big words or medical jargon, he spoke to David as he would a friend. To anyone meeting Tristan for the first time, they’d see relaxed posture and a friendly face. Dusty knew Tristan well enough to recognize the worry etched into the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, though. He prayed Tristan would agree to help David, and that the help would be accepted.