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Jeremy awoke slowly and, for a few brief, precious seconds, couldn’t feel a twinge of pain. He’d propped his leg up with pillows the night before and, for once, hadn’t tossed them completely off the bed in his sleep. Without even opening his eyes, he could tell it was later than he usually slept—even on his days off—and he felt rested. Maybe he’d go for a swim then check out a movie later. Anything to get out of the apartment. He stretched, letting out a low groan of contentment as he enjoyed the feeling of being able to laze around in bed.
He reached down to scratch an itch near his balls and felt a little jolt of pleasure. He was semi-hard. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up horny. He let his thumb graze the shaft of his cock, barely stroking, surprised by how good the simple touch felt. He hadn’t jerked off in a long time, but with his body and head not hurting, he thought it might be worth it. Besides, his doctor had practically ordered him to do it. He chuckled quietly to himself at the thought.
Jeremy gave his dick an experimental tug and groaned. Damn, maybe he had been missing out lately. He teased himself for a few minutes, tugging and stroking. God, it felt good. His breathing grew heavier as he imagined it was someone else’s hand wrapped around his cock. What he wanted even more was a mouth on his dick, slick and warm. It had been so fucking long.
A blowjob wasn’t going to happen, but maybe he could do a little better than a dry jerk-off. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. He frowned when he realized the lube he’d bought years ago had dried out and been tossed at some point. The only lotion he kept on his nightstand was medicated. A tingly, mentholated cock sounded like it could be interesting but potentially painful. Scowling because he was too lazy to go in the other room and grab non-medicated lotion, he brought his hand to his own mouth to lick his palm, then he lay back.
His erection had flagged a little, but the wetness was nice as he spread it along the shaft, tugging and stroking. He licked his palm again and felt a tingle run through him as he felt his hand glide along his erection. He closed his eyes, carefully shifting to get more comfortable as he began to stroke in earnest. His body responded: cock thickening, balls drawing up, and pleasure spreading across him in warm waves. He didn’t think he was going to last long, given how many weeks it had been since he’d gotten off. He wanted more than a quick jerk though. He wanted to enjoy it. Savor it a little.
Jeremy rubbed his thumb over the tip where a drop of pre-come slicked his movements further. Men’s faces filtered through his mind: former tricks, Stephen, various actors, but none of the potential fantasies appealed. It wasn’t until the memory of the guy shopping for running shoes popped into his head that he felt a jolt of pleasure that made his cock jerk. Mmm, yeah, that’s it, he thought. Evan, with the pretty lips and high cheekbones. Definitely a worthwhile jerk-off fantasy.
Jeremy licked his palm again, tasting the bitter remnants of his pre-come. He grasped his cock again and sped up, closing his eyes as the fantasy played out in his mind. In it, the store was deserted, and Jeremy and Evan had flirted through the whole shoe fitting. Now, Evan was on his knees, mouth opening to take Jeremy’s cock in, his soft, full lips gliding over the crown and down the shaft. Jeremy pulled away to watch his cock sink in between those lips again and watch Evan’s cheeks hollow as he sucked harder. Panting, Jeremy’s hand sped up, imagination replacing his hand with a hot, slick mouth. He gripped the back of Evan’s head, fucking his mouth with short, hard strokes.
Jeremy’s head fell back, his entire body tensing as the orgasm rolled through him. A loud, hoarse groan left his lips as he threw his hand above his head to grasp at the headboard, needing something to anchor him as he imagined pouring down Evan’s throat. Come surged out of his cock to spatter wetly on his stomach as he writhed on the bed. For a second, he felt nothing but perfect, blissful pleasure, then fire ripped through his thigh, spreading outward until it consumed everything else. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but grit his teeth to keep from screaming in agony. The pain rolled through him, battering at his brain as he gasped for air and clutched the sheets, trying to anchor himself before he splintered into a thousand tiny pieces.
A wave of nausea followed on its heels, and he rolled onto his right side, hanging his head over the edge of the bed and aiming for the trashcan. His stomach heaved, but nothing came up, and after a few moments, he lay his cheek on his outstretched arm, panting as he struggled to pull himself under control. His hand was sticky with come, and he could feel a wet patch under his hip, but he was too exhausted to care. The nausea washed over him again, and he braced himself to throw up, but there was nothing but painful dry heaves.
The cycle repeated until his stomach eventually settled. Cool air washed over his naked body, and he shivered, feeling weak and exhausted. The motion sent prickles of pain through him again, and he reached up to rub at his hip and thigh to ease the muscle cramps.
The come in his hand was beginning to dry, and he wiped it on the sheets with a disgusted face. Groaning, he carefully shifted to the other side of the bed and reached for the pain-relieving lotion he kept on the bedside table. He squirted some onto his hand and reached down, fighting back a shudder of revulsion at the twisted mess of scars on his thigh. The lotion went on cool, then heated to the touch as he rubbed it in. He dug the heel of his palm into the muscle below his hip, gritting his teeth as the pain flared when he applied pressure, working the lotion in with long, firm strokes. Gradually, the contracted muscles relaxed, unknotting, and he heaved a sigh of relief as the pain eased. He kept working the lotion in, adding more as he needed it, knowing if he didn’t he’d be stiff and sore later that day.
Carefully, Jeremy sat up and eased his legs over the edge of the mattress. He felt drained but not in the way he’d expected. For a few brief seconds, he’d enjoyed the warm glow of an orgasm and the release of built-up tension, but the pain had wiped it all away, leaving him shaky and fatigued.
Involuntarily, his gaze fell to his lap. His spent cock dangled between two thighs that didn’t look like they could possibly belong to the same man. One was smooth except for a light dusting of dark hair that gradually grew sparser at the top. The other was twisted and pitted from scars, some silvery pale and flat, others pinkish-purple and raised.
His stomach lurched with disgust, and he looked away, his mood plummeting.
If he couldn’t stand to touch or look at his thigh, how could he expect anyone else to? Carefully, he scooted back and lay down, pulling the covers over himself again. He’d lost every bit of desire to go out today. He eased onto his right side and punched the pillow in frustration.
So much for an orgasm helping with my pain levels and depression, he thought bitterly. Fuck you, Dr. Meyer.
He’d had good reasons for not dating and not jerking off. No orgasm was worth the pain that followed.
It was a shame too, because, for a few brief minutes, the thought of Evan had almost made him forget what a goddamn mess he was.
Too bad it didn’t last.
It never did.