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One IV catheter, an anti-nausea injection, and  a shot of morphine later, Dean was beginning to drift.  

“How are you feeling, Dean?” the physician asked.

“You’re not Dr. Kim, and I ain’t usu’lly into guys, but if I could move righ’ now, I think I’d kiss you, Doc.”

Bobby chuckled.  “Guess that means he’s feelin’ pretty good, and for once the ass is grateful for it.”

The doctor smiled.  “I know it’s important to be tough, Dean, but it’s ridiculous to put yourself through that kind of pain when you don’t have to.”

Dean smiled lazily.  “Jus’ tryin’a get outta here.  No ‘fense, but I don’ like ‘ospitals mush.”

Bobby patted his hand, hoping to stop the unfiltered chatter before the wrong words leaked out.  “Nobody does, boy.  Go to sleep.  You’ll feel better in the mornin’.”

Dr. Garby took the hint.  “He’s right, Dean.  Just close your eyes and get some rest, okay?  We’ll talk more about getting you out of here tomorrow.”

“Mm-kay.”  He closed his eyes obediently.  A Mona Lisa smile ghosted the corners of his mouth as he floated on morphine-induced memories from earlier in the day.


“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Dean took in the curvaceous, dark-haired female.   By God, it’s a true Busty Asian Beauty!  Hope she’s here to give me a sponge bath. He felt that slow smile that women couldn’t seem to resist break out over his face.

“I’m Dr. Kim, Dean.  I met your uncle earlier.”

Oh, shit!  She’s a doctor!   Panic danced in his chest.  “I thought you were a nurse.”  Nurses usually liked him.  They were kind, and did things to make him feel better, and brought him food.  Doctors...doctors were frightening.  They gave him orders and made him stay in bed and eat disgusting things and wouldn’t let him have pie, and they did things that hurt or ordered other people to stick things in him, and they wanted to look at and touch things they shouldn’t, and he just had to let them, because it was supposedly good for him.  Doctors were terrifying.

“Here to give ‘im a sponge bath,” Bobby told her, and Dean could’ve killed him.

“Bobby!”  He widened his eyes, trying to tell the older man to shut his trap.

“It’s a common mistake.  I’m actually your surgeon, and if all goes well, this will be the only time you’ll see me.”  She sounded irritated.

Oh, shit.  I am so screwed.

“As long as there are no surgical complications, you’ll be in the care of one of the staff physicians,” she added, and her voice had softened.

“Okay.”  He tried not to sound as relieved as he felt.

She reached for the controls on the bed.  “I need to lower this to take a look at your incision.  How are you feeling?”

Oh, crap!  She was going to have to partially undress him, and she’d be touching him, and damn, she was so hot, and he could only imagine how pissed she’d be if his body responded the way he was sure it would….

“Hey, Doc?”  Bobby queried.  Dean knew right away what Bobby was doing, and he widened his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t you dare leave!  No!”

But Bobby just continued, “You mind if I step out?  All this medical stuff makes me a little queasy,”  and the look in his eyes was sheer mirth.

Oh, you son of a bitch!  I will get you for this!

“Yes, of course.  This shouldn’t take long.”

She leaned forward slightly, manipulating the controls on the bed, and the v-neck of her scrub top gaped open.  His eyes traced the swell of one beautifully shaped breast to where it disappeared into the cup of her bra, and he groaned.  Little Dean was awake.

“How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Just peachy.”  He closed his eyes.   Go back to sleep, you little bastard!  I’m in charge here!

“I’m going to take a look at your abdomen, alright?”

Oh, hell. This is so bad. “Sure.”   Boy, if you ever want to come out and  play again, you will damned well go back to sleep now, before she finds you and rips you right off!  You hear me?

She pulled the covers down, piling them on his lap, then unsnapped the right sleeve of his gown.  That allowed her to peel the garment up and over to his left side, leaving the right half of his torso exposed.

“The discoloration doesn’t seem to have spread,” she observed, running the pads of her velvety soft fingers over his skin.

Little Dean lept to attention, and it was all Big Dean could do not to groan in a flood of embarrassment and apprehension.   Please don’t let her notice!

He felt gooseflesh develop as his nipple hardened, and resolutely kept his eyes closed.   Think about ghouls.  Stinky, nasty, chunks-of-flesh-falling-off ghouls….

“Just relax.  I promise I’ll be gentle.”

His rock-hard dick jumped again, heavy blankets be damned, and he draped his left arm over his face, stifling a groan.

“How much pain are you in?”

Her fingers were warm and sure as they traveled over his abdomen, and he begged his body to ignore how good it felt.   Think about pain.  How do those ribs really feel, Little Dean?




The memory transitioned seamlessly  into a dream, with the dreamer himself unaware of having drifted off to sleep.


“Let’s see what you’re hiding under there, Dean.”  She stripped the blankets from him, and his heart chittered frantically in his chest.   She’s gonna see, and be so angry!

Suddenly his hospital gown was gone, and his body was tight, coated with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes squeezed tightly closed, braced for some sort of punishment.


“Yeah?”  The air was cool on his skin.

“Open your eyes.”  Her voice held a quiet but undeniable authority, and his eyelids popped open obediently.

She was nude, skin glowing silver in the insubstantial fluorescence of the hospital monitors, and she was all soft curves and smooth skin and he wanted so badly to touch her, run calloused palms that were accustomed to rough over something breathtakingly tender, but he couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried.

He drank her in, and he knew that his eyes were wide, that his expression was exactly like a little kid on Christmas morning, staring at a tree piled high with gifts and a stocking overflowing with candy, because that was how he felt.  She was perfect, her breasts round and heavy, waist narrowing to the flare of luscious hips, so out of his league that he couldn’t believe she was gifting him with this, giving herself to him  --

Suddenly she was straddling him, swollen and hot, poised over his aching erection, and her fingers slid over his chest, his abdomen, awakening every nerve ending that she touched.  He moaned, straining to reach her, to press his hips into hers, raise his lips to taste her honey-scented skin, his hands to sculpt rounded flesh, but his body wouldn’t obey.

Her mouth followed her hands, lips, tongue, and teeth exploring him, torturing him with pleasure until he was burning with it, every cell begging for her to engulf him, possess him, make him her own.

“Please...please.” But he didn’t even know what he was pleading for, only that his entire body was aching with desire, straining to reach her, and her mouth covered his, sucking his tongue into its wet heat at the same time that she lowered her hips, impaling her body on his engorged cock, surrounding and saturating him with molten velvet that tore his breath from him in a hoarse shout, and there was nothing but raw pleasure, exquisite in its totality, exploding out from him in a blinding flash of white light, wiping his mind clear of thought and his consciousness free of any sensation other than bliss.

His body broke free of its paralysis, curling into her, arms wrapping tightly around her back to grip her shoulders, pulling her closer as he drove upward in an instinctive need to exist in this ecstasy for all of eternity.




The syllables crashed through his awareness, bliss splintering around him, and she was gone.




She knelt on her bedroom floor, unaware of her breathless moans as her own bliss rolled through her, blinding and deafening her to anything but this soul-encompassing pleasure --

It released her, and she collapsed into her mother’s arms, boneless and warm, the residue of her orgasm echoing in her joints and tingling along her skin.

“Are you alright?”

Her mother’s voice was tender, and Lynne smiled, even as a shudder ran through her.  “I  couldn’t control it.”

“No...I’m sorry.  He is more dangerous than I thought.”

“Did he...did he break through?  Did he touch me?”

“Yes.”  Her voice was light with the wonder of it.  “He moved.  I had been taught that such a thing was not possible for a  human, but he moved.”

“Momma,” she whispered, and despite the danger she had been in, she felt nothing but joy and gratitude, “I’m glad you were there.”

“As am I, child.  As am I.”