Worth The Wait

by Joey W. Hill

  Okay, Marcus was right. The woman was evil. When his shoulders shuddered and he turned his face away, she wrapped her arms around him. Though she was careful not to disrupt his IVs, she held his face to her bosom so he could bury those tears there. He had his arm around her fragile yet oddly sturdy body and, while he held on tighter than he should have, she never flinched. She cradled him in her arms in a way he'd also never experienced. As he wept without thought or analysis, she cried, too.

  His body would heal from this surgery, but Elaine had just helped heal a wound to his soul.

  He didn't really remember running down, but the drugs and the stress of the surgery overcame him. He recalled her settling him back on the pillows and using a damp cloth to wipe his face, her fingertips combing back his hair again. She admonished him about using the word 'shit' earlier, telling him he needed to watch his language. It made him smile. He slept.

  He was aware of Julie coming back, sitting with him, gripping his hand, the press of her mouth against his, an entirely welcome sensation he tried to prolong, but his arm was too weak to lift. It was okay, though. Her clean female scent stayed close.

  When he woke again, she was curled up in the guest chair, asleep. Marcus was laying a blanket over her, and Elaine was saying something about wishing she could bring him back some breakfast since hospital food was so horrible. He was all for that.

  "Eggs and hash browns," he mumbled. "And take Julie with you. She needs to sleep in a real bed. Don't let her wear herself out. I'm fine here."

  Elaine came to the bed and pressed a motherly hand to his brow. "She's as stubborn as you are, but they said you'll be able to have a liquid diet tomorrow and get the IVs out. If you're up to it, you'll be able to get up and move around a bit. That will go a long way toward convincing her. They won't let us feed you anything but what they approve yet. Have to take care of that special kidney of yours."

  "Bet Thomas will get hash browns," he said sullenly, but he took a closer look at Marcus. As Elaine had hinted, he had the lined tiredness in his otherwise perfect face that said he'd been camping out in another room the same way Julie was camping in his.

  "Is Thomas okay?"

  "He's great. We'll get you together for a visit in the morning."

  "Tell him thanks. Thanks...to all of you."

  Des saw Julie's eyes open and he couldn't look away. He wanted her in the bed with him. He wanted her close.

  "Let's give them a little time to snooze. We'll go back to Thomas." Elaine, picking up the vibe, eased her and Marcus toward the door. Des felt a little guilty about making them feel like they had to leave, but he did have one question he wanted answered first, that he asked as they reached the door.

  "How do you know I'm a generous, kind person?"

  Elaine blinked. "I've interrogated your closest associates. Waterboarding was used."

  He snorted but Marcus tossed him a look. "Believe her. She could wear a California redwood to a stump."

  "Hush," Elaine told him, though her lips pressed against a smile. "I talked to these two and Thomas about you. Particularly Julie. That wonderful girl thinks she's been in love before, but I disagree." She glanced toward Julie and back at Des. "You love someone worthy of being loved, and it's clear to me she's deeply in love with you."

  As Marcus held the door for her, he gave Des a nod before the door closed behind them.

  Des looked toward Julie immediately. "Can you come here?"

  Her lips tipped up. "What, a request? No Dommish orders? No 'get your ass over here now'?"

  "Not my style."

  "I beg to differ. It's your style. You just don't use the words. You use 'the look.'"

  "Well at the moment they've got so many chemicals running through my system, the best I can manage is a cross-eyed, drooling stare. But since there are three of you, I'm having all sorts of good fantasies. Get all of your asses over here."

  She giggled and put the footrest down, coming to him with the blanket still wrapped around her. He expected it was chilly, as it always was in hospital rooms, though he wasn't feeling it, since they had him swathed in a bunch of blankets.

  He was able to move over enough for her, though, so she could slide in on the side that didn't have all his hookups. As soon as she pillowed her head on his shoulder and settled her body against his, his world centered in a way that he knew without question answered Elaine's question about intentions.

  "I'm going to marry you," he said.

  "Oh?" She sounded drowsy, but happy at the prospect. "I can go for that. Are we doing this right now, or is there time to get a dress?" She paused, and she didn't have to say anything for him to know she was thinking of the night in the theater.

  "Is that the one you'd like to wear?"

  "Yes. I'll get it altered to fit me a bit better. Otherwise it will slide all the way off my boobs at the reception when I step on the hem and cause a wardrobe malfunction, but...yes."

  "Good."

  "Good to the wardrobe malfunction or the dress?"

  "Both." He put his arm around her. He was weak, Christ, he was weak, but that would change. The one good thing about having a tidal health history was knowing these things ebbed and flowed. He'd be strong enough to lift her over a threshold by the time they were married. He'd make damn sure of it.

  "So...Elaine. She's a bit scary. She said she expects me to join them for Christmas this year."

  "Of course. You're part of the family, aren't you? I was going to invite you to Marcus and Thomas's as my plus-one. Sounds like I'll be yours. Don't tell me you're going to refuse. It takes a braver woman than me to say no to that woman."

  "Are we sure she's not a Domme? I'm thinking she has stilettos and a whip hidden away somewhere."

  "If she does, when she passes--hopefully decades from now--we better get them before her kids find their hiding place. Thomas would be traumatized for life." Julie glanced down, amused, noticing he was winding his pulse-ox line around her wrist. "Just can't help yourself, can you?"

  "I was going to ask Sal if he'd bring me restraints. Figured I could cuff you to the bed, make sure you don't go anywhere while I was sleeping."

  "I won't go anywhere," she said. Suddenly sobering, she curled her fingers around his wrist with her other hand. "And you aren't either. You hear me? I don't care about statistics or anything else. You're going to hang around long enough for me to grow old with you. Better or worse and all that."

  "Good thing I asked first. I'm pretty sure not only is the man supposed to be the one to propose, but a Dom would definitely be the proposer."

  "I'm a pushy sub. You've said so. And a New Yorker." She smiled, but then she shifted uncertainly, as if doubting herself, or his feelings on the matter.

  "I do. I will. I feel like we already are." Des touched her face, stroked it. "If I should go before you, it won't matter, Julie. I'm not taking a boat anywhere you can't go. Whether it's a day or fifty years from now, I'll wait right there on the other side. You're worth the wait to me. You always will be. I knew it the first time I saw you."

  She blinked back tears. "You're just saying that because I let you touch my breast within a minute of meeting me," she said.

  "Well, yeah, there is that." He considered her. "You know, I haven't given you flowers in a while. I liked the liquid nitrogen scene Tony did with Charlotte. Would you like it if I gave you flowers that way? Leave the blush of a rose's petals against your fair skin when the bloom explodes into a million pieces?"

  "I'd like anything you'd give me. The first date we had, you took me to see flowers."

  "Actually our first date was my daring spider rescue. The notorious breast-touching-excuse incident."

  She chuckled, held him tighter and he kissed the top of her head. "We're okay, love," he murmured. "We're okay."

  Four days later, they let him come home. Julie had been as glad as Des was to be back in his bed. And, as much as she'd enjoyed his reaction to her surgical gown gift, she was happy to have him back in his jeans and
T-shirts. Though it might be a while before he did handstands on a roof again, she was okay with that.

  Des's post-surgical instructions forbade him from lifting anything heavier than a cinder block for several weeks, or exerting himself too strenuously, so he coordinated his roofing jobs by phone and very brief visits out to job sites. He had good people working for him, so his income didn't suffer.

  While he hadn't lied to her when he told her he had few expenses, Julie had learned his medical insurance, available to him only because he paid a high premium and maintained a sizeable deductible, didn't cover everything, like the expensive pump supplies. He'd learned to keep all his other bills low to meet those costs.

  Yet like her, there wasn't much he needed in life except the pleasure of day-to-day living. He was at least able to minimize the doctor visits he disliked so much, because with Betty nearby, the nurse handled a lot of the follow up monitoring that would have been done in an office, including staying alert for any warning symptoms of rejection.

  Julie had one-heart stopping night when she rolled over and discovered he had a fever. In a blink, she'd concocted all sorts of emergency scenarios involving organ rejection or life-threatening infection, but it turned out to be fine. Over his protests, she'd woken Betty to check on him. After a brief interrogation, the nurse learned he'd let some of his Type I kids come visit him and meet her horses the day before, and Justice had a cold.

  Betty designated Des the stupidest man alive--which she said was a very notable distinction, since anything with a penis was incurably stupid--and determined he'd simply caught the boy's bug. He'd been relegated to bed and chicken soup for the next three days under the pain of her wrath.

  For the time being, Des was supposed to minimize contact with immune system risk factors, like groups of children. Julie knew that, but she'd been at the theater when he'd decided to invite the kids over, so she hadn't been able to run interference. Not that it would have helped much, since Des was getting more recalcitrant with every passing day. Whereas he'd take a certain amount of mothering from Betty, he tolerated zero levels of it from Julie.

  However, though Betty was scathing in her discussion with him, she'd called Julie later to give her some even-handed advice. "He's going stir crazy. Once the cold passes, if he'd be a help to you at the theater and no one there is an adolescent petri dish, see if he'd like to go to work with you."

  Julie hadn't attempted to snow him as to her reasons. She simply asked him if he'd like to come with her to the theater to get out of the house. With a searching look, he accepted.

  It turned out to be the best solution for all of them. Not surprising to her, he was a big help, and it came at an opportune time. Lila's play had opened and run with better than decent ticket sales for all showings. Harris and Madison had picked up the extra slack and made it happen while Julie's care and attention were focused on Des.

  Audience reception was so strong to Done Right, they decided to ride its momentum. The next production they'd planned had hit a scheduling hitch, so they bumped it further down the schedule and decided to do a follow up play Lila had already written, set in the same world.

  Julie was pleasantly surprised to find Des was willing to do anything needed to help, even mundane clerical tasks. One day he sat with her at a table in the front row, assembling promo packets for her student volunteers to pass out at the area colleges, local community organizations and anywhere else potential audience members would be. As she'd sat across from him, working on her computer and emailing press releases to the local news outlets, she'd secretly watched and savored his efficient way of working while he bantered with the tech repairing a couple of lights along the stage edge.

  Lila was directing this play as she had the first, with heavy support and guidance from Harris and Julie. During rehearsals, Des provided good input to her on how the Dom/sub dynamics would come across to an audience. He also supervised volunteers on scene building--after Julie made it clear she would eviscerate anyone who let him do anything he shouldn't.

  He didn't appreciate such overprotectiveness and was quick to inform her of it, not always in kind terms. She understood there was a line he didn't care for their relationship to cross, but she also couldn't help caring about him and being protective. Fortunately, through their arguments, they learned to understand one another somewhat better.

  "You're not going to get to be bossy much longer," he warned her in a lighter moment. "You'll be back at my mercy and then I'll make you sorry."

  "Yes, I'm a terrible girlfriend for looking out for you," she retorted. Yet she longed for that time as much as he did.

  However, his recuperation period brought a bolstering reassurance about the substance of their relationship. While she'd never thought it was based only in sex and BDSM, before his surgery those things had been new and exciting enough to overshadow learning other things about one another.

  He didn't care much for TV, but they both loved good films. He liked Fast and Furious type action films, while she was a classic film buff. They found common likes in older movies such as Forrest Gump and Regarding Henry. They also enjoyed choosing the worst of the B flicks--double ZZ basement finds, as Des called them--to dissect over popcorn.

  They returned to Daniel Stowe gardens and wandered the trails, enjoying the flowers, sitting by the water and talking about everything. They never ran out of topics, though she equally liked their comfortable silences. One night when Betty deemed he was doing well enough to be out in a crowded environment--and he was chafing too much at the prolonged restrictions to keep him at home--they joined Logan, Madison, Troy and Shale at a karaoke bar and each tried out the mic, with hilarious results.

  Though Des tired out before midnight, he tipped his chair against the wall behind him and enjoyed watching the others. She leaned against him, hand lightly on his thigh, and feeling glad to be there with him.

  They talked about deeper things, too. Elaine, his mother, her relationship with Thomas and Marcus. When her friends had headed back to their North Carolina house after the surgery, Thomas had told her they'd be there for at least a month. She knew there were plenty of good doctors to handle his follow up in New York, so she suspected they were staying close in case anything came up with Des. She appreciated it, even as she hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

  The one thing she and Des didn't talk about much, though Julie knew it was on both of their minds, was the future. A healthy kidney like Thomas's might last Des eleven years, but she worried about when it would give out. At that point, he might be on dialysis permanently. But that was the future, and he wouldn't let her talk about it, not now. As his strength returned, he had other priorities in mind. One night, he let her know it in unmistakable terms.

  "It's a full moon tonight," he mused, looking at the play of its light coming through the window, creating a silvery-white beam on the bedspread. Julie lay in his arms, a luxury during his healing that was becoming blissfully routine again. Her fingertips slid over his bare chest and he turned his head to nuzzle her temple. There was a different quality to the caress, more firm, questing, and she drew in a breath as he moved down to her cheek, nudging her jaw so she lifted her chin and he kissed her throat. Her arms wound over his shoulders, fingers sliding through his hair.

  "Des..."

  "Love the way you say my name like that," he murmured. "Look at me."

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze as his fingers took over from his mouth, stroking her throat, tracing her collar bone, his palm moving over her heart and holding there, a pressure that made her aware of her heartbeat and the sudden concentration in his brown eyes.

  "For just a second there, you let it all go. Your body took over, your soul, that submissive side that surrenders to me. It's time to let the rest go, love."

  Her brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Do you have to talk about how you breathe? No," he answered the obvious question. "Because you just do it. I told you from the beginning, I've carried this with me my whole life.
I live the best way I can to ride the train as long as possible. I don't want to miss a bit of the scenery because I'm too focused on where the train will end up. I need you to do that, Julie, now more than ever. Your worry is killing me."

  She was wearing a silky baby doll that he'd talked her into buying and wearing to bed, with the droll observation, "Just because I can't use my cock right now doesn't mean I don't like to keep it entertained." He slid the thin strap off her shoulder so he could finish his caress of her collar bone to the point of her shoulder unimpeded. He brushed his knuckles over her breast, teasing the ripe curve. His heated eyes remained on hers.

  "When I see you worrying, I worry about you, and all this scenery gets ruined for both of us. If this is going to work, you have to enjoy the train ride with me and not get bogged down. Sounds selfish of me to demand that, I know, but if you can do that, I promise that attitude will take us both to a better state of mind. A synergistic reaction like some other things we enjoy. Hmm?"

  She smiled tentatively, through a swirl of reaction from his touch. It made sense, didn't it? After all, yes, she could lose him, but he could lose his life. If he could figure out how to handle that reality without being obsessed with it, so could she.

  "I'm just new to it," she said. "I can do it. I just need practice."

  "I can help with that." His mouth curved, and he placed her in the full block of moonlight. "Lift up."

  When she complied, he put a pillow under her back, making a tempting bridge of her body. Her heartrate kicked up. Being around him on a normal day was like being around an aphrodisiac. Since he'd started to regain his strength, they'd made a concerted effort to ignore their smoldering chemistry, but his expression said he planned to turn up the heat.

  "Take off the gown and the panties. I want to see my sub."

  She complied. She didn't want to fall back into worry so readily, but he wasn't yet cleared to have sex. Was he planning on pushing that envelope? Would she be able to deny him?

  "Ssshh. Your thoughts are making a racket," he chided her. "I want to watch you, love. And we're going to do it my way."