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Meddling – Robin 15
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Shagged and shagged well. My mother would probably get a kick out of the very British thought running through my mind as I stretch out on the bed. Our bed. Mine and Patrick's bed.
Well, technically, it's the Drake Family Bed or something like that, not "our" bed, but for this week it's our bed. And we are using it well. And often.
I have to say, I never expected this. Not given my…well, I'm not going to dwell on my past or my medical status. Why should I? I'm with a man who doesn't dwell on either.
How in the world did I get so lucky? How in the world did I get to think that I was ever lucky to meet Patrick Drake! At least in this context is makes sense – the shagging context. The first time I met him he was shagging some blond nurse on an OR table as "prep" for surgery. Did I ever admit even to myself before how flocking hot he looked? So intent, sweaty and buff. Something inside me went to jelly even as I was righteously storming around like he owed me something. My bluster in that moment amuses and astounds me. I don't think I'll ever admit either to Patrick. His ego is big enough.
Then he got off that table like he was hot shit, which he was, and paraded his manly, naked glory for me. I mean, I've seen The David in Florence and Super Surgeon Patrick Drake inspired that same kind of surreal sexual awe. Damn. My heart was pounding so fast and I know that I didn't even flinch. I was quite proud of myself. But damn, I wanted my hands on that man. I hadn't felt that way in years, maybe never. I hated him for it. I mean, really, really hated him. Because he was such an egotistical, patronizing asshole with a body and a face that I wanted to throw down.
Seriously. I did.
Me, Robin Scorpio wanted to order Patrick Drake back onto that table and crawl on top of him. Of course, I would have ordered him to not talk because most of what he says actually detracts from his attractiveness. At least back then. These days, he could read the back of a cereal box and make me swoon. In fact, I had him do just that this morning. Before we shagged again. On the dining room floor. Neither of us wanted to clean up soggy cereal from the floor.
I feel my face heating as I finally admit all this to myself. Blushing and smiling, another big part of the few days we've been here in what I like to call heaven. No responsibilities, no trauma, just unadulterated pleasure, which is right up Patrick Drake's alley. No one does pleasure quite like him, no one I've met. And I've met all sorts living in Europe. Hmmm. I guess what I mean is that Patrick does pleasure in a way that I can relate to. Not like the hoity-toity too much money trusties in Europe who do freaky things for pleasure just because they can afford it. I've never felt this free.
Not to bring thoughts of Jason into this bed, but I thought that being with Jason was freeing. I see now it was just hiding. There were some good times, but mostly it was me hiding from reality, hiding with the only person I thought would accept me infected with HIV and the first person I could stand being around after Stone left me. Real freedom is being with Patrick.
Patrick who insists on letting the bowl of ice cream melt fully with the hot fudge and then sucking it off the spoon like soup. Patrick who will sit for hours building sand castles and then laugh uproariously when the rising tides knock them down. Patrick who reads my novel to me rather than letting me go off and hide out by myself – and does all the voices while doing it. Patrick who gives a killer foot massage with those strong surgeon fingers. Patrick who makes me feel beautiful and desirable with every touch, every glance.
"You're not going to cry again are you?" Patrick asks as he walks into the bedroom with a tray filled with all sorts of fun foods for our lunch. Today he insisted we have lunch naked in bed. He's not bothered by my tears, especially since he rightly assumes they're all about me treasuring him. I do. I do treasure him.
He sits down on the bed, puts the tray down between us and holds out a fresh strawberry for me to bite.
How did I get so lucky?