Fic: All I Want For Christmas Is ... Inappropriate (NC-17, 4/6)
Warnings for this section: startin' to get a little sexy.
Back to Part 3
Part 4
Leonard had set his alarm to wake him at four p.m., but ended up not needing it. Just before four, he woke, refreshed and exhilarated.
And hard as a rock.
He hadn’t yet come up with a good term for ‘morning wood’ that happened in the late afternoon, after he’d slept off a night shift. But the solutions weren’t any different, so he started the shower up and stepped in under the hot spray. His hand moved to his cock of its own accord, and settled into a familiar pattern. But his mind wandered in a different direction than it had recently, and settled on bronze hair, sapphire eyes, and full lips that were just begging to be kissed. By him. After all, Jim had dreamed about it, so it was only fair.
He imagined that the hand on his cock was broader, and more calloused, and stronger than his own. He changed the rhythm of his hand, to further his fantasy that it wasn’t his hand, but someone else’s entirely. He imagined what Jim’s cock might feel like in his hand, and pictured Jim licking his lips, and envisioned his bright blue irises thinning to narrow rings around huge pupils, dilated with lust.
Len supported himself by leaning with one arm on the wall of the shower stall as his hand sped up. He imagined Jim groaning his name-or, rather, the nickname Jim had bestowed upon him-in the throes of passion, and this auditory image pushed him off the edge of the cliff he was on, and he came hard, spurting onto the wall, groaning out the name of his fantasy lover.
He leaned heavily on the wall, panting, as he recovered.
“Dirty ol’ man,” he muttered to himself, as he splashed water to rinse the wall, and finished his shower.
While he had toast and coffee, Leonard started wondering whether this date he was about to go on was really such a good idea. After all, the guy had been his patient, so there truly could be that hero-worship complex going on. Not that Len thought of himself as a hero, but the risk was there that Jim had a distorted perception of Len, and that his attraction was based on the fact the Len had cared for him in a time of need.
Len resolved that this date would be about figuring out whether that was true. His initial impression was that Jim was someone who didn’t take bullshit, but was more than happy to dish it out. Not in a malicious way, but in a cheerful way. Len really wanted to get to know Jim, but he also needed to be as sure as he could that Jim’s interest in him was genuine, and not based on some knight-in-shining-armor syndrome.
And, he realized, he needed to be extremely cautious. Even though he’d only had Jim as a patient once, briefly, Jim had still been his patient. So technically, even weeks later, it wasn’t right for them to have any kind of relationship, even though there was no anticipation that Jim would ever be under his care again.
Len tried to kill time by reading the news, but he couldn’t fool himself into believing he could actually pay attention. Instead, he cued up an episode of his favorite crime drama, and before he knew it, it was quarter till six.
He put on his best jeans, and a polo shirt, and shoes that wouldn’t make him look like an old fuddy-duddy. There was no way he was going to look anything like good next to Jim, but that’s just the way it was going to be. He gelled his hair into the casual messed-up look he favored when he wasn’t working. And, at six sharp, the knocker on Len’s apartment door sounded. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.
“Hey, Bones.” Jim stood on the doormat on the landing.
“Hi, Jim. Come on in while I get my coat,” Len said.
Jim stepped just inside the apartment, and looked around. “Nice place.”
“It’ll do, for now. The floors and ceiling seem to be made of cardboard, and the boiler sounds like a heavy metal band,” Len said, as he pulled his coat on.
“So, you might be wondering where we’re going,” Jim said.
Len stopped dead in his tracks. He actually hadn’t given it a nanosecond’s thought.
“Or not,” Jim said, laughing. “But either way. Thai, or sushi?”
Len scowled. “You do realize that sushi is raw fish, right? And that Iowa, last I checked, isn’t anywhere near any ocean? Is the idea of undercooked food ringing any bells, there?”
Jim paled. “Okay, so I used to like sushi. Thai it is, then.”
“Good. I love Thai.” They stepped out into the hall, and Len locked the door.
“Spicy, or not too?” Jim asked.
“Place I used to go to in Atlanta had a spiciness scale of zero to five; I’d always get a four.”
“Awesome. And this place is only a few blocks from here-wanna just walk?”
“Sure,” Len said. “On the way I’ll have time to think about how stupid it is that I didn’t know there’s a Thai restaurant within walking distance of my home.”
Jim laughed. “You probably never noticed it. Until a year ago, it was a crummy Italian place that went out of business. The new owners didn’t redecorate much, so is still looks like a cheesy Italian place.”
They walked down the nearly-deserted street, talking about this and that. When they reached the door, Leonard realized he’d walked past the place many times, but never noticed it, because he wasn’t a fan of Italian food, and assumed that a place that looked Italian and was named ‘Anna’s’ was probably Italian.
Before they went inside, Len grabbed Jim’s upper arm.
“Wait. I have to tell you something, okay?”
Jim cocked his head. “Okay. Fire away.”
“I was thinking, after I got up today. And, this is kind of hard to explain, but I need to give it a shot.” He took a deep breath, and hated it when he could hear the shakiness in his own exhalation.
“It’s okay, Bones. Just say it.”
“See, it’s like this. I really want to get to know you-like we said yesterday. But here’s the thing. There’s this … I would call it a syndrome, actually, of patients, or rescuees, or anyone who needs help in a crisis, developing feelings for their rescuer, their doctor, their therapist, or what have you,” Len said carefully. “I know I’m … intrigued by you, and, well, attracted to you. And I think you feel the same way.”
Jim nodded.
“But, I need to figure out whether-”
Jim interrupted. “Whether my feelings for you, whatever the hell they are, are based on anything other than that syndrome. Got it. I was the vulnerable patient; you were my knight in shining armor; yadda yadda yadda. I know about that stuff. And who knows-maybe there’s a little of that going on-I can’t prove there’s not. But here’s what I do know. I hate doctors. I hate being doctored. So falling in love with a person who’s doctoring me, because they’re doctoring me?” Jim shook his head. “No way, no how, Bones. But I can’t prove that, so what are we gonna do?”
“I think,” Len said slowly, “we just see what happens. Maybe we’ll be sitting there after half an hour, and won’t have a damned thing to say to each other, and it’ll be so awkward that we both want to kill ourselves by sticking satay skewers through our eye sockets and into our brains.”
“And Bones, maybe that won’t be what happens. Maybe in half an hour, the waitress will be getting annoyed because we haven’t even ordered yet, because we’re so caught up in … things,” Jim said. “I have a feeling that by the end of the evening, we’ll know. We’ll know whether I have Stockholm syndrome, except with a patient and a doctor instead of a prisoner and a captor. We’ll know whether you see me as a patient, or maybe something else. We’ll know.”
Len looked back at Jim. “Okay.”
“Okay. Let’s go in.”
Jim opened the door for Len, and they stepped inside. The hostess seated them, and Len started looking at the menu.
“Anything you’re allergic to or hate?” Jim asked.
“Can’t stand okra or liver,” Len said, “but I wouldn’t expect to find them here.”
“Well, I’m allergic to eggplant,” Jim said. “Plus, for some reason, I’m kind of off anything really eggy right now. But-will you trust me to order some good stuff?”
Leonard was about to object-he didn’t really know Jim, so how could he trust him? But …
“Sure,” he said.
“Great. And-gee, I don’t know anything about you. Drinks, or no? I mean, do you even drink?”
Len snorted. “Far too much. But to be honest, I just got up two hours ago, so it’s kind of early for me. You go ahead, though.”
“Maybe not,” Jim said. “I think maybe I’ll keep all my inhibitions intact for now.”
Len raised his eyebrows. “You have inhibitions? First I’ve heard of it.”
Jim grinned. “See? You already know me a little.”
The waitress took their order, and they continued to talk about topics deep and shallow, mundane and exotic. Food, sports, work, family. Past, present, future.
Nearly two hours later, after they’d drawn their meal out to marathon length, neither one of them was even thinking about the questions they’d posed at the door to the restaurant.
“You probably have to be up early,” Len said with regret.
Jim shrugged. “Morning chores are at the ass-crack of dawn no matter how early I get to bed.”
“All right, then, let’s find someplace to get coffee. Unless you had some other destination in mind?” Len asked.
“Coffee’s good.”
They walked a little further downtown, and ducked into a small coffee shop, where they spent another hour. For most of the hour, their knees touched under the small, round table, and neither of them made any effort to keep them apart.
When the coffee shop closed, they walked, and talked, and walked, and talked. Around eleven thirty, Len stopped and stomped his feet, and rubbed his gloved hands together.
“I have a confession to make,” he said. “Two, actually.”
“Okay,” Jim said. “What are they?”
“One, I’m so cold I think my brain is going numb. And two, I have absolutely no idea where we are right now,” Len said sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, but I think I need to get inside.”
“No problem-it’s freezing out here. We’re only ten minutes from your place. I’ll walk you back there.”
They walked back at a brisk pace, close enough to each other that their shoulders bumped repeatedly. Just as with their knees in the coffee shop, no attempts were made to stop the contact from happening. When they finally arrived at Leonard’s building, and Len got out his key for the exterior door, he put a hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Come up for a minute? I want to ask you something.”
“Sure,” Jim said.
Len let them both into the building, and then into his apartment. Once they were inside, and the door was closed, Len took off his hat and gloves, and set them on the table by the door.
“What’d you wanna ask me, Bones?”
“Did you really dream about kissing me?”
Jim nodded, blue eyes shining.
Len leaned towards Jim and plucked his hat off. He took Jim by one lapel, and by the back of his neck, and pulled him closer, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. When Jim leaned in, snaking his arms behind Len’s back and maneuvering them closer together, Len deepened the kiss, tasting coffee and a hint of leftover Thai spiciness. They kissed in the narrow foyer for several minutes, until Len pulled back.
“Was it anything like that?” he asked softly.
“The dream wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing,” Jim whispered, as he went back for more.
A few minutes later, they parted, and stood back to look at each other. They were both still in their coats and boots, and they both knew that was how it needed to be this time.
“We need to do this again soon,” Len said.
“Really, really soon,” Jim agreed. “Like tomorrow. But shit-you probably have to work tomorrow night.”
Len shook his head. “I have a few days off, and then I’m back to day shifts for a few weeks. But I’ll be a wreck tomorrow, trying to adjust to the time change.”
“Whoa-that’s like major jet lag. Like going back and forth between Iowa and China every few weeks. Or … or New York and Australia. How can you even … okay I’m babbling,” Jim said.
“You are,” Len said, smiling a crooked half-smile.
“Tomorrow,” Jim said. “You call me, since I have no idea when you’re gonna be sleeping.”
“Me neither,” Len said. “I’ll call you.”
They kissed once more, until Jim pulled away, groaning. “Okay, okay-going now.”
“Tomorrow,” Len said, as he let Jim out.
On to Part 5
Back to Part 3
Part 4
Leonard had set his alarm to wake him at four p.m., but ended up not needing it. Just before four, he woke, refreshed and exhilarated.
And hard as a rock.
He hadn’t yet come up with a good term for ‘morning wood’ that happened in the late afternoon, after he’d slept off a night shift. But the solutions weren’t any different, so he started the shower up and stepped in under the hot spray. His hand moved to his cock of its own accord, and settled into a familiar pattern. But his mind wandered in a different direction than it had recently, and settled on bronze hair, sapphire eyes, and full lips that were just begging to be kissed. By him. After all, Jim had dreamed about it, so it was only fair.
He imagined that the hand on his cock was broader, and more calloused, and stronger than his own. He changed the rhythm of his hand, to further his fantasy that it wasn’t his hand, but someone else’s entirely. He imagined what Jim’s cock might feel like in his hand, and pictured Jim licking his lips, and envisioned his bright blue irises thinning to narrow rings around huge pupils, dilated with lust.
Len supported himself by leaning with one arm on the wall of the shower stall as his hand sped up. He imagined Jim groaning his name-or, rather, the nickname Jim had bestowed upon him-in the throes of passion, and this auditory image pushed him off the edge of the cliff he was on, and he came hard, spurting onto the wall, groaning out the name of his fantasy lover.
He leaned heavily on the wall, panting, as he recovered.
“Dirty ol’ man,” he muttered to himself, as he splashed water to rinse the wall, and finished his shower.
While he had toast and coffee, Leonard started wondering whether this date he was about to go on was really such a good idea. After all, the guy had been his patient, so there truly could be that hero-worship complex going on. Not that Len thought of himself as a hero, but the risk was there that Jim had a distorted perception of Len, and that his attraction was based on the fact the Len had cared for him in a time of need.
Len resolved that this date would be about figuring out whether that was true. His initial impression was that Jim was someone who didn’t take bullshit, but was more than happy to dish it out. Not in a malicious way, but in a cheerful way. Len really wanted to get to know Jim, but he also needed to be as sure as he could that Jim’s interest in him was genuine, and not based on some knight-in-shining-armor syndrome.
And, he realized, he needed to be extremely cautious. Even though he’d only had Jim as a patient once, briefly, Jim had still been his patient. So technically, even weeks later, it wasn’t right for them to have any kind of relationship, even though there was no anticipation that Jim would ever be under his care again.
Len tried to kill time by reading the news, but he couldn’t fool himself into believing he could actually pay attention. Instead, he cued up an episode of his favorite crime drama, and before he knew it, it was quarter till six.
He put on his best jeans, and a polo shirt, and shoes that wouldn’t make him look like an old fuddy-duddy. There was no way he was going to look anything like good next to Jim, but that’s just the way it was going to be. He gelled his hair into the casual messed-up look he favored when he wasn’t working. And, at six sharp, the knocker on Len’s apartment door sounded. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.
“Hey, Bones.” Jim stood on the doormat on the landing.
“Hi, Jim. Come on in while I get my coat,” Len said.
Jim stepped just inside the apartment, and looked around. “Nice place.”
“It’ll do, for now. The floors and ceiling seem to be made of cardboard, and the boiler sounds like a heavy metal band,” Len said, as he pulled his coat on.
“So, you might be wondering where we’re going,” Jim said.
Len stopped dead in his tracks. He actually hadn’t given it a nanosecond’s thought.
“Or not,” Jim said, laughing. “But either way. Thai, or sushi?”
Len scowled. “You do realize that sushi is raw fish, right? And that Iowa, last I checked, isn’t anywhere near any ocean? Is the idea of undercooked food ringing any bells, there?”
Jim paled. “Okay, so I used to like sushi. Thai it is, then.”
“Good. I love Thai.” They stepped out into the hall, and Len locked the door.
“Spicy, or not too?” Jim asked.
“Place I used to go to in Atlanta had a spiciness scale of zero to five; I’d always get a four.”
“Awesome. And this place is only a few blocks from here-wanna just walk?”
“Sure,” Len said. “On the way I’ll have time to think about how stupid it is that I didn’t know there’s a Thai restaurant within walking distance of my home.”
Jim laughed. “You probably never noticed it. Until a year ago, it was a crummy Italian place that went out of business. The new owners didn’t redecorate much, so is still looks like a cheesy Italian place.”
They walked down the nearly-deserted street, talking about this and that. When they reached the door, Leonard realized he’d walked past the place many times, but never noticed it, because he wasn’t a fan of Italian food, and assumed that a place that looked Italian and was named ‘Anna’s’ was probably Italian.
Before they went inside, Len grabbed Jim’s upper arm.
“Wait. I have to tell you something, okay?”
Jim cocked his head. “Okay. Fire away.”
“I was thinking, after I got up today. And, this is kind of hard to explain, but I need to give it a shot.” He took a deep breath, and hated it when he could hear the shakiness in his own exhalation.
“It’s okay, Bones. Just say it.”
“See, it’s like this. I really want to get to know you-like we said yesterday. But here’s the thing. There’s this … I would call it a syndrome, actually, of patients, or rescuees, or anyone who needs help in a crisis, developing feelings for their rescuer, their doctor, their therapist, or what have you,” Len said carefully. “I know I’m … intrigued by you, and, well, attracted to you. And I think you feel the same way.”
Jim nodded.
“But, I need to figure out whether-”
Jim interrupted. “Whether my feelings for you, whatever the hell they are, are based on anything other than that syndrome. Got it. I was the vulnerable patient; you were my knight in shining armor; yadda yadda yadda. I know about that stuff. And who knows-maybe there’s a little of that going on-I can’t prove there’s not. But here’s what I do know. I hate doctors. I hate being doctored. So falling in love with a person who’s doctoring me, because they’re doctoring me?” Jim shook his head. “No way, no how, Bones. But I can’t prove that, so what are we gonna do?”
“I think,” Len said slowly, “we just see what happens. Maybe we’ll be sitting there after half an hour, and won’t have a damned thing to say to each other, and it’ll be so awkward that we both want to kill ourselves by sticking satay skewers through our eye sockets and into our brains.”
“And Bones, maybe that won’t be what happens. Maybe in half an hour, the waitress will be getting annoyed because we haven’t even ordered yet, because we’re so caught up in … things,” Jim said. “I have a feeling that by the end of the evening, we’ll know. We’ll know whether I have Stockholm syndrome, except with a patient and a doctor instead of a prisoner and a captor. We’ll know whether you see me as a patient, or maybe something else. We’ll know.”
Len looked back at Jim. “Okay.”
“Okay. Let’s go in.”
Jim opened the door for Len, and they stepped inside. The hostess seated them, and Len started looking at the menu.
“Anything you’re allergic to or hate?” Jim asked.
“Can’t stand okra or liver,” Len said, “but I wouldn’t expect to find them here.”
“Well, I’m allergic to eggplant,” Jim said. “Plus, for some reason, I’m kind of off anything really eggy right now. But-will you trust me to order some good stuff?”
Leonard was about to object-he didn’t really know Jim, so how could he trust him? But …
“Sure,” he said.
“Great. And-gee, I don’t know anything about you. Drinks, or no? I mean, do you even drink?”
Len snorted. “Far too much. But to be honest, I just got up two hours ago, so it’s kind of early for me. You go ahead, though.”
“Maybe not,” Jim said. “I think maybe I’ll keep all my inhibitions intact for now.”
Len raised his eyebrows. “You have inhibitions? First I’ve heard of it.”
Jim grinned. “See? You already know me a little.”
The waitress took their order, and they continued to talk about topics deep and shallow, mundane and exotic. Food, sports, work, family. Past, present, future.
Nearly two hours later, after they’d drawn their meal out to marathon length, neither one of them was even thinking about the questions they’d posed at the door to the restaurant.
“You probably have to be up early,” Len said with regret.
Jim shrugged. “Morning chores are at the ass-crack of dawn no matter how early I get to bed.”
“All right, then, let’s find someplace to get coffee. Unless you had some other destination in mind?” Len asked.
“Coffee’s good.”
They walked a little further downtown, and ducked into a small coffee shop, where they spent another hour. For most of the hour, their knees touched under the small, round table, and neither of them made any effort to keep them apart.
When the coffee shop closed, they walked, and talked, and walked, and talked. Around eleven thirty, Len stopped and stomped his feet, and rubbed his gloved hands together.
“I have a confession to make,” he said. “Two, actually.”
“Okay,” Jim said. “What are they?”
“One, I’m so cold I think my brain is going numb. And two, I have absolutely no idea where we are right now,” Len said sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, but I think I need to get inside.”
“No problem-it’s freezing out here. We’re only ten minutes from your place. I’ll walk you back there.”
They walked back at a brisk pace, close enough to each other that their shoulders bumped repeatedly. Just as with their knees in the coffee shop, no attempts were made to stop the contact from happening. When they finally arrived at Leonard’s building, and Len got out his key for the exterior door, he put a hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Come up for a minute? I want to ask you something.”
“Sure,” Jim said.
Len let them both into the building, and then into his apartment. Once they were inside, and the door was closed, Len took off his hat and gloves, and set them on the table by the door.
“What’d you wanna ask me, Bones?”
“Did you really dream about kissing me?”
Jim nodded, blue eyes shining.
Len leaned towards Jim and plucked his hat off. He took Jim by one lapel, and by the back of his neck, and pulled him closer, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. When Jim leaned in, snaking his arms behind Len’s back and maneuvering them closer together, Len deepened the kiss, tasting coffee and a hint of leftover Thai spiciness. They kissed in the narrow foyer for several minutes, until Len pulled back.
“Was it anything like that?” he asked softly.
“The dream wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing,” Jim whispered, as he went back for more.
A few minutes later, they parted, and stood back to look at each other. They were both still in their coats and boots, and they both knew that was how it needed to be this time.
“We need to do this again soon,” Len said.
“Really, really soon,” Jim agreed. “Like tomorrow. But shit-you probably have to work tomorrow night.”
Len shook his head. “I have a few days off, and then I’m back to day shifts for a few weeks. But I’ll be a wreck tomorrow, trying to adjust to the time change.”
“Whoa-that’s like major jet lag. Like going back and forth between Iowa and China every few weeks. Or … or New York and Australia. How can you even … okay I’m babbling,” Jim said.
“You are,” Len said, smiling a crooked half-smile.
“Tomorrow,” Jim said. “You call me, since I have no idea when you’re gonna be sleeping.”
“Me neither,” Len said. “I’ll call you.”
They kissed once more, until Jim pulled away, groaning. “Okay, okay-going now.”
“Tomorrow,” Len said, as he let Jim out.
On to Part 5