Exposure (8 page)

There was a loud, drawn out moan, then I heard him laughing on the other end of the phone. I didn't know what was going on.

"Jeremy?" Maybe he hadn't heard me.

"Oh fuck...oh, Martin, I'm sorry, I heard you, I just...I just fucking jizzed on my rainbow flag...it's just so fucking poetic..."

"That flag that's on the wall over your bed?"

"Yep." He could barely talk he was laughing so hard. "It's pretty damn high too."

"Wow."

He seemed to be calming down now. I listened to his laughter get quieter and his breathing even out. After a few moments he said, "Martin?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

I cleaned up and called Frankie.

"I just spoke to Jeremy."

"And?"

"He's okay. He's going to see his doctor on Monday. He's still having issues but he seems okay."

"That's great, Martin. How are you?"

"I told him I love him."

"No way, really? Did he say it back?" She was breathless with excitement.

I grinned from ear to ear. "Yep."

I had to hold the phone away from my ear, she shrieked so loud. I heard her telling Simon and then she said, "That's so great! I'm so happy for you!"

"Did you talk to Simon yet?"

"Yes. He's invited his friend to supper on Monday. She's pretty sure she can make it. Is Monday okay?"

"Monday's fine. Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself, sweetie. About seven, okay?"

"Sounds good."

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Chapter Nine

Clarity

Monday evening found me at Frankie's place a little late; the result of my spontaneous decision to buy her some flowers as a thank you for all her support.

"Martin, come on in," Simon ushered me inside. "Frankie, your brother's here. And he brought flowers."

"Oh, Martin, you didn't have to do that...but they're gorgeous! Thank you." She took the bouquet and kissed me on the cheek. "Did Jeremy see the doctor?"

I shook my head. "He couldn't get an appointment until tomorrow."

She frowned. "Okay, well, come on in. Miriam's here already."

I took off my shoes and coat and shook Simon's hand. "Good to see you, Simon. And thanks for setting this up."

"No problem at all." Simon was a bear of a man with a beard and warm blue eyes. He was sweet and kind and sexy in a domestic sort of way.

We wandered into the living room where Frankie had lit some candles and put out some cheese and crackers. An elegantly dressed woman with a young looking face and short silver grey hair turned from where she was examining Frankie and Simon's wedding portrait, a glass of white wine in her hand.

"Martin, this is Miriam Cole."

Miriam smiled and held out her hand to me. "I'm pleased to meet you, Martin." Her expression was welcoming and friendly. I warmed to her immediately.

I shook her hand. Her grip was firm and steady. She was wearing leather boots with high heels and didn't seem to have any balance issues. She appeared as healthy as Jeremy had a few days ago. "Thank you for coming," I said.

"Can I get you a drink, Martin?" Simon asked as I sat down on the sofa.

"Sure. Do you have red wine?"

"Of course."

Miriam sat in an armchair nearby. She asked what I did for a living and we spoke about photography and a few other things. Then she said, "I hear you're looking for some insight about a friend of yours."

I nodded. "I'm not sure what Frankie told you."

She smiled. "Well, she said you'd found out recently that a close friend of yours has MS."

I debated whether or not to be completely open and honest with her or hedge around my relationship with Jeremy. I decided that if I wanted her to be up front with me, I needed to extend her the same courtesy.

"My boyfriend actually," I said, watching her reaction.

"Oh?" She seemed surprised but not shocked.

"We've only been together a couple of weeks."

"And he told you he has MS and you're not sure what that means?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. He woke up Saturday morning at my place and he could barely stand up."

"Oh, Martin, I'm so sorry. And you had no idea?"

"No."

"That must have been quite the shock."

"It was awful."

"I'm sure it was. How is he now?"

"Not so bad. But he needs his cane to walk. He has an appointment with his neurologist tomorrow."

She nodded. "Good. He's had problems with his legs before?"

"I think he said about three years ago. He was in a wheelchair for a couple of months. And then he recovered. I mean, is that even possible?"

"Yes. Totally. With MS, the nerves develop inflammation and become damaged, but the human body can repair itself up to a point. The more relapses you have, the less likely you are to recover completely. Then the residual damage adds up and you can have a permanent loss of function. How old is he, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Twenty-three."

"Wow. That's young. I got lucky. I was diagnosed at the age of thirty-eight. I'm forty-one now. I think the median age at diagnosis is twenty-nine."

"I can't tell that there's anything wrong with you. Then again, I couldn't tell with him either. He's the most beautiful, healthy seeming guy..."

"I do have issues; fatigue, difficulty concentrating. I've lost some permanent sensation in my fingertips but that only affects my typing speed. It's the nature of the disease, Martin. It hides in your brain and spinal chord until the inflammation is severe enough that it shows. The disease is always there. It's just a matter of controlling it. What therapy is he on?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry. I mean, which medication is he taking?"

"I think that's part of the problem. He said he stopped taking it."

She nodded and sipped her wine. "Ah."

"I think he regrets stopping."

"The medications are so important."

I nodded.

"My older brother was diagnosed with MS at the age of seventeen. Back then, there were no long-term treatments, just short-term mega doses of steroids to help with relapses."

"How is he doing now?" I almost didn't want to ask.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "He's doing well, however, he uses an electric wheelchair. He can no longer stand on his own. He gets confused easily and his memory is terrible."

I must have gone pale.

"Martin, there have been so many advances in the treatments for this disease in the past fifteen years. My outlook, and your boyfriend's outlook, is much better than my brother's ever was."

"Can't they treat your brother at this point? Fix some of the damage?"

She shook her head. "Once the disease has progressed that far, the medications don't work. They're preventative. They reduce relapse rates quite a bit. The fewer relapses you suffer, the less overall damage occurs. They
are
doing research on using stem cells to repair some damage in MS patients, but it's inconclusive." She laughed dryly. "Sorry, I'm sounding like a doctor. The first thing you do when you get an MS diagnosis is research, research, research."

"I'm sorry about your brother," I said. I couldn't even imagine.

She shrugged. "Me too. But I'm very happy there are treatments now. Even if it means I have to give myself a needle every day."

I raised my eyebrows.

She nodded and smiled. "All the available treatments are injectables. But you get used to it." She leaned back and regarded me carefully. "I've never been tempted to stop my medication, but that's because I've seen firsthand what can happen when you leave this disease alone. I can understand why a younger person might wonder if they really need it. But they do." She shook her head. "Anyway, if you're contemplating a long term relationship with this young man, don't let this scare you. If he goes back on his meds and stays on them, and takes care of himself, he'll do great. You know, there are so many worse things."

I nodded and smiled at her. "Thank you so much, Miriam. Your insight and knowledge is invaluable to me."

"I'm glad I could help." She looked toward the kitchen then back to me. "Do you think they're deliberately neglecting us?"

"No doubt." I stood up. "I'll let them know we're getting hungry."

Dinner, when it eventually made it to the table, was delicious. Simon was an excellent cook and my sister had the wisdom not to interfere with his genius.

Miriam had a dry sense of humor and a charming personality. I wanted her to meet Jeremy.

When I got home I went to bed feeling much better, and looking forward to speaking with Jeremy tomorrow.

I kept myself busy the next day and tried not to worry about what Jeremy would tell me about his visit to the clinic. The information that Miriam provided me, and her laid back, positive personality, reassured me greatly. The shock of Jeremy's revelation had worn off. I began to just accept it as a part of who he was. And that protective feeling grew. I wanted to take care of him.

It was after noon when the phone rang. I answered it quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

His voice comforted me every time I heard it. "Jeremy. Where are you?"

"I'm at home."

"Did you see your doctor?"

"Yep."

"And?"

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

My heart sank. "There's bad news?"

"Well...he thinks it's an actual relapse." He hesitated. "But, he said it looks pretty mild and he's pleased that I'm already improving."

"Okay." I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"He doesn't want to put me on steroids, which I'm happy about. He wants me to go back on my meds and try to take it easy."

I nodded.

"But it could take awhile for everything to get back to normal," he continued.

"It won't get worse?" I whispered.

"He doesn't think so, since it's improving now, especially if I start the meds again. He gave me quite the lecture about stopping them. They should be ready by Friday."

"Which medication?"

"Pardon?"

I cleared my throat. "I did some research. I know there are four different drugs."

"Oh. Well, I was doing a weekly intramuscular injection but I'm going to try the daily subcutaneous injections this time."

"Glatiramer acetate."

"You
have
been doing your research. Anyway, there it is. I'll have to hang onto my cane for a little longer, that's all." His voice was quiet. For the first time I sensed a tiny bit of embarrassment about everything.

"I like your cane. It keeps you from falling."

"It didn't."

"What?"

"It didn't keep me from falling in love with you." He paused. "Ba-dump-bump."

"That's pretty cheesy, Jeremy."

"Isn't it? But it's true. Are we still on for Thursday?"

Thursday? I didn't know what he was talking about. "Um, Thursday?"

"Jean Pierre's band, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. You still want to go?"

"Yeah. I am so fucking bored, you have no idea. And, um, I really miss you."

I smiled. "I miss you too."

* * * *

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Chapter Ten

Aperture

Thursday evening seemed to take forever to arrive. I couldn't decide what to wear and eventually settled on my black jeans and a cream colored button-up. Not exactly club wear, but it would have to do.

I offered to pick Jeremy up, so at seven-thirty I knocked on the door of his townhouse. My palms were sweaty and my heart pounded. I heard loud music so I looked for the doorbell and rang it when nobody answered my knock. Finally, the door opened and a tall, lanky young man with purple hair and a lip piercing said "Hi."

"Hello, is Jeremy here?" I asked.

The young man grinned. "Sure. Come on in. Jeremy's in his room."

He walked over to the stereo and turned the music down slightly. It still seemed loud to my ears though. The place was an absolute mess, as it had been the last time I'd seen it. How did Jeremy walk around without tripping?

I walked down the hall and knocked on Jeremy's door. After a few moments it opened and there he stood. He had on dark brown leather pants, a black form-fitting long-sleeved tee, and his boots. I barely had time to take it all in before he grabbed my jacket and pulled me into his room, slamming the door shut.

"Jeremy, I--"

"Shut up, Martin." And we were kissing. I lost myself in the heat from his mouth and the feel of his body pressed against me. He was delicious and the smell of him was enough to drive me mad. Our tongues danced and probed. His hands on my cheeks held my face steady. My hands drifted down his back to his perfect ass and pulled him firmly against me. Our desperation for each other was obvious, but I couldn't fuck him with his roommate in the living room.

I moaned. "Jeremy...we can't--"

"I know..." he murmured against my lips. "I just needed to taste you."

We forced ourselves to stop and move apart. But our eyes stayed locked.

"Jesus," I muttered, leaning against the door.

"I know," he said and a slow grin spread across his handsome face. "Maybe we should just go to your place."

"Okay." I grinned back at him.
Lord, I'm so easy
.

I glanced over his head at the rainbow flag above his bed. He saw me looking and chuckled. "I washed it."

"It's pretty damn high, Jeremy."

He laughed. "I'm twenty-three. What can I say? I've got reach." He seemed suddenly shy and looked down at his feet. "Do you think...could I stay over tonight?"

I nodded. "I'd love it."

We packed a change of clothes and I grabbed his messenger bag. He was walking okay as long as he used his cane. He told Charlie that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

When we got in the car I asked how he felt.

"Well, I'm feeling pretty horny right now."

"Ha ha. I mean, otherwise."

"Why don't you tell me how I feel..." he murmured, taking my hand and placing it on his lap. I felt the hardness of his cock under the leather of his pants.

"Fuck. Me." I whispered.

"That's the plan, baby." He pressed my hand against his erection and moaned. Then he looked at me. "I feel great, Martin."

"You certainly do."

He grinned and moaned again as I rubbed him gently. "I had a nap."

I smiled and reluctantly pulled my hand away, turning the keys in the ignition. "Put your seatbelt on."

He followed close as I walked to my front door. Even though he needed his cane he seemed to have no problem moving quickly. While I fumbled with the lock he leaned in and whispered, "Your ass looks good in those jeans."

I shoved the key home and turned the handle, opening the door and moving into the warmth of my house. Jeremy followed closely, his free hand roaming over me. I turned and kissed him then, as I closed and locked the door. His arm wrapped around me and he pulled me against him. We kissed softly, tenderly this time; now that we were here, there didn't seem to be a huge rush anymore. I had an idea...

"Jeremy, would you do something for me?" I said against his mouth.

"I'll do anything for you."

I grinned. "Go upstairs and wait for me on my bed."

He laughed. "Absolutely."

"But don't get undressed yet."

"Why not?" he almost whined.

"Because I want to undress you, baby."

"Okay." He pulled away and looked at me sternly. "Don't be long."

I shook my head as he put his hand on the railing and started up.
Shit!
"Do you need some help?"

He looked back at me with an indulgent expression. "No, Martin. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Sorry."

I resisted the urge to stay and make sure he made it to the top without falling. I went into my studio, hesitating and contemplating my plan. I had meant to grab my camera off the tripod and get some quick and casual shots of Jeremy in his hot outfit before I took his clothes off. But the photographer in me had a better idea. We had all evening, after all.

I took the camera off the tripod and connected it to the computer. It didn't take long to clear the memory card. I reconnected the camera to the tripod and folded it up, tucking the whole thing under my arm. Then I unplugged one of the smaller, portable lights and carried both up the stairs.

When I reached my bedroom I saw Jeremy sprawled out on my bed, still dressed and with his boots on--he knew how much I got off on those boots. His hands were behind his head and one leg was bent. He regarded me with a hooded gaze and a lazy grin.

"Shit..." I whispered, putting my gear down and quickly setting everything up. "Don't fucking move."

"Okay," he said. "I love watching you work. You're so good at what you do."

I shrugged. "It's not rocket science."

"It's sexy."

"You're sexy, Jeremy. I could come just looking at you."

"Jesus, how long is this going to take?" He rubbed his hand against the bulge in his pants.

"It'll take as long as it takes. I told you not to move."

He raised an eyebrow at me and put his hand back behind his head, his grin getting bigger. "Yes, sir."

The side of my mouth quirked up and I finished with the camera. I put the light beside the bed and adjusted it. He watched me but stayed in position.

"Perfect," I said.

I went back to the camera and made a few adjustments. Then I started shooting.

Jesus Christ.
He is so goddamn beautiful
. The brown leather pants clung to his long legs and showcased his lean musculature. His black cotton long-sleeved tee did the same for his chest, flat belly, and long arms.

"Oh, yes...these are going to be amazing," I murmured, my cock getting harder in my jeans. "Why don't you roll over onto your stomach?"

"Good idea. My ass looks great in these pants," he said coyly, doing as I instructed.

I almost groaned at the sight of him laid out before me. His ass looked fucking amazing. I took picture after picture and he started moving around in front of me. He reached his arms out before him and arched his back, like a jungle cat stretching. Then he looked over his shoulder, igniting an inferno within me, but I kept shooting. My breathing came harsh and quick. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep from touching him.

Then he slowly turned around so that he faced me on all fours. He stared at me with the most intense, heated look as he rose up on his knees and rubbed his hand against the huge hard bulge of his erect cock.

I did groan then and I stopped taking pictures. I let go of the bulb and moved forward onto the bed until I was on my knees before him. I grabbed his shoulders as our mouths came together hungrily.

His hands cupped my ass and pressed my groin against his own. He moaned into my mouth and I ran my fingers through his soft, messy hair as I groaned and trembled against him. He pulled his mouth away for a moment. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah...I just...I missed you."

"Undress me," he said.

I stared at this beautiful man asking me to undress him and my heart swelled as much as my cock. My hands came down from his head and slid under his shirt, caressing the smooth skin there before grabbing the hem.

"Lift your arms up."

He did so. I peeled his black shirt up over his head and threw it onto the floor. My eyes raked over his naked chest, my fingers reaching up to touch one puckered nipple, my mouth finding his again. We kissed slowly this time, deeply, and it was so hot, like he was sucking my entire soul out of me and into him. I gave myself completely to what I felt for him, worrying about nothing except how long it would take to get him out of his jeans. I needed to be closer. I needed to be inside him.

My fingers found his buttons and wrenched them open. He laughed and helped me push his pants down, his cock bursting free and whacking against my jeans. I felt his hands on my shirt, unbuttoning it. I undid my jeans and pushed them down, laughing with him and kissing him desperately. He pushed my shirt back off my shoulders and let it fall to the bed.

"Oh my God..." he gasped. I could hear the tremor in his voice. His hands were everywhere. I clutched his hips, moaning into his mouth, unsure what to do first.

His hand came down between us and wrapped around both our cocks, holding them together and sliding his against mine slowly. It felt incredible.

"Oh, yeah...shit..." I groaned.

"Jesus, I can't wait till I can fuck you..." he murmured. I made a noise in my throat. "Until then, well, we'll just have to make do with having your cock in my ass."

"Oh...fuck..." I could barely breathe, so busy kissing his lips, his chin, his neck, then his lips again. My kisses were frenzied and needy. I wanted this so badly.

"You want to fuck me, baby?"

"Yeah, oh God, Jeremy...please...please..."

He chuckled at my desperation and let go of our cocks, pushing me over and pulling my pants off the rest of the way before getting rid of his boots and jeans. I lay there watching him and rubbing myself until he lay down and pulled me on top of him. "Where's the lube?" he whispered.

I reached over to my bedside table, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the lube and a condom.

I made love to him then, face to face, sliding into him and watching his expression. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. As I rocked against him and touched him deep inside, he watched me with eyes that widened and then closed according to my gentle movements. The noises he made as I fucked him were killing me. I was already close to coming.

Suddenly he moaned and gasped, "I love you." I felt him spasm beneath me; hot wetness oozing between us as he came. It sent me over the edge. I made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan as I pulsed inside him. I found his mouth with mine and poured all of my love into him. He was mine now and I wasn't letting go.

In the morning we showered together. I washed him clean and sucked his cock while the hot water coursed over us and he held onto the side bar for balance. Over omelets we talked about his roommates and how he dreaded returning to the mess and the noise.

I put my fork down. "Why don't you stay here for a couple of weeks?"

He stared at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "It's clean and tidy and quiet. And I'll try to keep my hands off you, so you can rest."

He raised his eyebrows.

I blushed. "I can be good."

"What's the fun in that?"

"So you will?"

"Are you sure you want me here?"

"Jeremy. Fuck. Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay." He smiled at me and I thought I would burst with happiness.

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