Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Vic looked up at him with glazed eyes, breaths thin and fast. “I can if it’s coming from you.”
“I only want to give you a little.” Amani caught the last of the buttons on Vic’s shirt and dragged them open, pulling it up out of the waist of his slacks, then tugged the slacks open so he could slip his hand inside. Past fabric, past skin, past that lush little tuft of dark, curling hair that tickled his palm, and he curled his hand against Vic’s cock, gripping its heaviness, kneading it against his palm. “Just enough to make the pleasure feel even better.”
Vic parted his lips—only to throw his head back with a cry as Amani gripped tighter, holding in a slow, deliberate stroke, massaging one inch at a time down Vic’s rapidly swelling cock. Vic dropped his hands to the bed, gripping up the covers, his hips lifting roughly enough for Amani’s body to rock upward with him.
“Ah…ah, Amani…”
“Do I have your permission to hurt you, my sweet boy?” At Vic’s wordless nod, Amani smiled. “Then…arms over your head.”
Vic started to lift his arms—but then stilled, hissing, a wince twisting his features as he clutched at one shoulder…and Amani hadn’t done anything. Amani hesitated, slipping his hand free from Vic’s pants, some warning raising the fine hairs on his body and telling him to stop. Something wasn’t right.
“Vic…?” he whispered, but Vic rolled his head back, lips pulling back from clenched teeth, his entire face twisted with pain. Twisted, red, sweat breaking out and beading on his brow, and his breathing—his breathing wasn’t right, and he made sounds that weren’t words and…and…
“Vic…Vic!” Amani tumbled off him, pressing his fingers to Vic’s throat, panic lancing through him as Vic’s pulse leaped against Amani’s touch like racing rapids. Too fast. That was too fast, and Vic was rolling away, his body curling, shaking, lips trembling as they fought to form rasping, broken syllables.
“N-ni…nitroglycerin…”
“Yes—yes, right—” Amani spilled out of the bed and, tripping over his gown, bolted for the bathroom, fumbling the prescription bottle off the shelf before racing back. He nearly spilled the pills as he fought the bottle open with shaking fingers, his throat knotting, chest tight, his heartbeat counting out frantic seconds as he fought to fish out the pill and press it to Vic’s mouth. “Here. Here, take it, I’ll…I’ll call 911…”
Vic lipped the pill from Amani’s fingers weakly, then collapsed against the bed, wheezing, eyes closing. “D-don’t…don’t, I’ll be f-fine…”
“You’re not fine,” Amani said, clutching at Vic’s hand; it felt so feeble, so fast, and it was terrifying watching Vic go red then pale then red again, the pain knotted across his brow more than Amani could stand. “And I’m calling 911.”
Vic didn’t answer.
Vic didn’t do anything, his fingers going limp in Amani’s hand, and Amani’s entire body froze with pure dread.
“Vic?” he whispered, then grabbed for his phone, a sob rising up in his throat. “Please, oh please don’t do this to me…Vic!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIC LEANED AGAINST THE HEADBOARD of his bed in an exhausted slump, staring down at the needle in his forearm, trailing to a little clear bag of labetalol dangling from a portable IV stand. He felt like a sack of dry cement, slouched over and lifeless, and he slowly clenched his fist to see the veins pop in his forearm while at his bedside, the EMT packed up her bag.
And kneeling next to him in the bed, Amani watched him with darkened, frightened eyes, tracking both his and the EMT’s every move with anxious, hawklike intensity.
“Shouldn’t you be admitted?” Amani asked, then redirected the question to the EMT. “Shouldn’t he be admitted?”
“Not today,” Vic said tiredly. “I’d just be taking up a bed someone else can use. This just…happens sometimes.”
The EMT flicked him a sharp look as she rose. “Don’t treat this casually. If you aren’t closer to baseline within the next eight hours, you need to come in. I’d rather have to come back here for my IV than come back here for your corpse. Frankly I’m considering this voluntary refusal of medical assistance. Just because I said you don’t have to be admitted doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“Listen to her.” Amani had Vic’s free hand clutched in both of his own, and it felt like the only spot on Vic’s body that was actually warm. “Please…please, just…”
Vic shook his head, heavy as a stone on a limp neck, and let his eyes close again. “Please just…let it drop. Please.”
The EMT’s departure was a collection of brisk sounds, then the crackle of the radio clipped to her collar as she murmured into it. Silence fell as the elevator doors closed, before Amani’s voice fell in little whispered drops of hurt.
“I don’t understand how you can be so glib about this,” he said. “You’re not invincible, Vic.”