Part Eighteen
Recovery

Trenton tried not to feel anxious while Clive was gone, but he couldn't help it. To take his mind off it, he took a shower while he waited. The hospital staff had been threatening to hose him down. After that first cleansing scrub back at the Bienvenu house, he hadn't been able to stand the thought of touching his own body. And, since he especially hadn't been able to stand the thought of anyone else touching him sponge baths had been out of the question.

But Clive was here now. He had a reason to care about himself again. So he took a long shower, scrubbing carefully, but not too roughly. He washed his hair, wishing for something other than the generic shampoo the hospital provided, knowing how particular Clive was about that sort of thing. He conditioned his hair, too, letting it soak in for a good, long time before he rinsed it clean.

The nursing staff was delighted with this show of life in the till now almost catatonic Trenton. They whispered among themselves that it was the blond American who had made this change, and wasn't it a fine thing? It would be a shame, though, if such a pretty boy were not at least bisexual.

Trenton was in a fresh gown, climbing between fresh sheets, when Clive returned bearing large paper sacks that smelled temptingly of beef and onions. Trenton felt his mouth start to water, but honestly couldn't say if it was from the thought of food, or the simple presence of Clive.

Clive stopped in the doorway, looking at Trenton. The boy looked freshly polished. His hair (which had been limp and lifeless the last time Clive saw him, much to his sorrow), was once again curling softly in burnished ringlets, and his skin had the pink, healthy glow of someone fresh from a hot shower.

Clive walked over, sat on the bed beside him, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "You're looking much better, precious. Have you decided that this old world is worth exploring a little longer?" Trenton nodded. "Good." Clive caressed his hair, running his fingers sensuously through the silky strands. "because I intend to be your guide, for as long as you'll allow."

Trenton threw his arms around Clive, hugging fiercely, burying his face against the cool leather of his jacket. "Do you mean it?"

Clive embraced him, rocking him lightly. "Trenton, have I ever lied to you in all the time you've known me? I've always been very frank about my feelings." He pushed the boy back a little, and stroked a damp curl off his forehead. "I still can't promise I'll be exclusive, but I do want to be with you, in every way possible. The thing is, dear boy..." Trenton winced at the words, and pulled away abruptly, falling back on his pillow. "Trent, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." His voice was strained, and he didn't meet Clive's eyes.

Clive frowned. Taking Trent's chin in his hand, he turned the boy's face toward him. In his calmest, most controlled Dom voice he said, "Trenton Vittelli, you will tell me what I did to suddenly make you freeze up. How can I do what I have to if you won't communicate with me?"

"It's nothing you did, Clive. Not on purpose, anyway."

"It has to be something, lamb. You were doing so well, then snap--you're marble again."

"It's just..." Trenton swallowed. "Dear boy. He... he called me that."

Clive's expression blackened. "Well," he said quietly. "Bang goes a perfectly good endearment, because an asshole misused it. I won't call you that again, Trent, not if it has bad memories for you."

"Thank you."

"Sweetheart." Trent smiled faintly. "Now, if I remember your appetite correctly, you should be about half-past starved." Trent sat up as Clive rolled the little table-tray over and fitted it across his bed. He began to unload the bags. "I brought two for you, and two for me. I worked up an appetite, also. I didn't know if you wanted fries or onion rings, so I got both. A chocolate malt for you, because I need to fatten you back up..."

"I was not fat. Swimmers don't get fat."

"Touchy, touchy." Clive was secretly delighted at Trent's show of spunk. "And a vanilla for me, which is the only thing in life I like plain vanilla." Trenton giggled faintly, and Clive felt his heart swell. He was going to be all right. Clive would see to that.

Trenton had unwrapped the first burger and was peeking under the bun. "Any ketchup?"

"Of course. But you have to ask for it these days."

He handed the little foil packet to Trenton. Trenton took it, but suddenly grabbed his wrist and peered closely at Clive's hand. There was bruising on the knuckles, and the skin was torn in a couple of places. Trenton looked up at his friend with a silent question on his face.

Clive said quietly, "It's nothing for you to worry about, love. I just took care of something."

"Are you gonna be in trouble because of me?" The boy's voice was tremulous again.

"No, Trenton, I seriously doubt I'll be in trouble. The other person involved isn't permanently damaged, though he will have to eat through a straw for a while, and he won't have quite as much luck picking up pretty boys in the clubs. He isn't likely to make a fuss about it. He's a shit, but he's not that stupid. And anyway, if I did get in trouble, it wouldn't be because of you, lamb. It was something I chose to do."

Trenton relaxed a little, and took a bite of his burger. His face lit up. "Hey, grilled, not fried!" He started to eat hungrily, and Clive, toying with a french fry, watched him, smiling fondly.

Trenton finished his meal, eating everything, including most of the fries and onion rings, and half of Clive's malt, which was happily surrendered. Then they watched television for awhile, Trenton translating for Clive. But soon he was falling behind on the translations due to jaw-cracking yawns, and Clive turned off the set. When Trent started to protest, Clive said firmly, "No. You may listen to the radio. Perhaps that will help you sleep."

Clive was leaning over him to reach the radio on the window sill when Trenton murmured, "Yes, Daddy." Clive froze in the act, then slowly lowered his arm till his hand rested on Trenton's sheet covered chest. The boy place his hand over Clive's, fingers drawing tiny circles on the back. Trenton whispered, "Clive?" No response, except for the slight tremor he felt in Clive's hand. Trenton slid his hand up Clive's wrist, tickling at the sensitive skin on the inside of his forearm. "Please, sir."

Clive took hold of Trenton's hand, kissed his palm, and firmly moved it back to his side. "Not tonight, precious."

Trenton's face fell. "You don't want me."

"It's not that."

He turned his face away. "After what happened with Gervase, I don't blame you."

"No!" Clive took Trenton's chin in hard fingers, turning him to gaze into his eyes. "You will not say that ever again, Trenton Vittelli, do you understand? As far as I'm concerned, you're the same as you were when you left Metropolis. Not want you? God, boy, I crave you, but not now, Trent. Not till you're better. Not till you've healed a little."

"The doctor said the stitches would be disolved by now."

'That's not what I meant, and you know it. You have to heal here," He laid a hand on Trenton's head. "And here." His hand rested again over Trenton's heart. "Then, little boy, then I'll take you, when you're ready to be loved. When you've stopped hurting yourself."

"How long?"

Clive pressed a kiss to his forehead. "God, I don't know, Trent. I'm not a fucking psychic." The words were rough, but his tone was gentle. "Soon, I think. Just let it happen, all right?"

"All right."

"Now, go to sleep." Clive turned off all the lights in the room. He left the bathroom light on, and the door ajar. For a long time he sat in the chair beside Trenton's bed, watching as he drifted into sleep. He didn't move until he saw the tiny movements under his eyelids that signalled deep sleep.

Finally he got up and stripped down to his underwear: black silk jockeys, special ordered. It wasn't easy to find anything but boxers in silk, but most of Clive's wardrobe was simply too tight for boxers, though he did find them erotic, if he was in the right mood.

Clive climbed into the bed on the opposite side of the room, grumbling about the coarseness of hospital sheets. *Must have a one-twenty thread count at the best. I miss my 200 counts. If Trento was going to be staying here any longer, I swear I'd get some for him. These can't be comfortable for that delicate skin.*

Clive settled in, sighing. *You old hypocrite. You know damn good and well that you'd like nothing better than to turn him over your knee and raise a pink flush on that delicate skin.* Clive smiled in the dark. *Well, it isn't as if he wouldn't enjoy it, also. I imagine he'd have a juicy hard-on before I was through with him. Of course, ideally he'd lose that hard-on before the scene was over.* Clive felt an incipient warmth in his crotch. *I've got to stop thinking of things like that.* He forced his mind to safer considerations, like reservations for their flight home as soon as the doctors released Trent.

He fell asleep.

Clive awoke some time later to find that he was no longer alone in the bed. Trenton had crept in beside him. The young man was curled against Clive, an arm thrown over his chest, and a leg thrown over his legs. He was sound asleep.

Clive lay very still, not wanting to disturb the boy. This wasn't sexual, Clive knew that. Trenton was seeking comfort and security. Well, Clive could give him that. He gently eased an arm under Trent, pulling him into an embrace. The boy murmured sleepily, but didn't wake up. Poor kid, he was exhausted from the strain of the past week, and now his mind had taken over and shut down for some much needed rest.

That was all well and good, but it was a little stressful for Clive. Despite his good intentions, having such a sweet, beautiful young man practically wrapped around him while he was nearly naked (and Trent not much better in that obscenely inadiquate hospital gown. Imagine, opening up the back. Were they trying to give him a heart attack?) was having its effect--he was getting hard.

*No, Clive. You swore to yourself and to him, not before he's had some time to pull himself together. He's too vulnerable right now. It would be too much like that shit taking advantage of him.*

His cock insisted that Trenton had wanted him a ong time before he came to France, so what was wrong with acting on the boy's desires, and his own? Clive argued with his rebellious organ, laying out all the reasons why he couldn't possibly have sex with the delicious creature snuggling so close. He didn't have much success. Pretty soon he was so hard that he ached, his jockeys were strained to the limit, and they were getting quite damp.

Finally he decided that something had to be done, but Trenton would only be involved in a very peripheral way. Since his left arm was cradling the boy, he slipped his right hand down into his shorts and started masturbating.

Clive stroked himself slowly, closing his eyes and imagining that it was Trenton's hand on his prick, Trenton spreading the slick pre-come over his cock head and down his shaft, Trenton rubbing and squeezing. Unconsciously, his arm tightened around the boy, and Trenton opened his eyes.

He lay very still, taking in what was happening. He'd been half asleep when he'd come to Clive's bed, afraid to be turned away. But Clive had only sighed in his sleep as Trenton stretched out beside him, and Trenton had quickly fallen asleep himself, soothed by the nearness of the man he loved. That was all he'd wanted. But to wake up to this...

As Trenton watch, Clive pulled his hand out of the slit where it had been busily working, and pushed his jockeys down as far as he could, lifting his ass. He managed to get them down over his hips, and his dick sprang up so vigorously that it almost slapped his belly. Trenton's mouth dropped open softly, and his eyes became dreamy. It was the first time he had seen Clive naked. The only thing he wore was the jockeys, tangled now far down his thighs.

In the dim light spilling from the bathroom Clive almost seemed to glow. His skin was the color of pale honey. Trenton knew that he spent time on the roof of Attitudes, and his own place, sunbathing. Nude, apparently, because there was no tan line.

His pubic thatch was short, but lush, a darker gold than his hair. His prick rose from it majestically. Clive liked his trousers tight, and Trenton had known he had a good sized package, but this... The thought of taking that into his body made Trenton twitch mentally. Whether it was anticipation or mild dread, he couldn't say.

Clive's hand moved back up to grasp his own hard-on, and he began to pump firmly. Trenton watched, fascinated, as the older man pleasured himself. His glance returned to Clive's face. He was flushed, eyes pressed tight shut. As Trenton watched, he bit his lip. Then he silently formed one word: Trent.

It felt so good. Clive was approaching climax. He grunted softly, hips lifting to push his swollen flesh even more firmly into his grip, imagining the look of sweet acceptance and desire on Trenton's face.

His hand was pushed away, another taking its place. His eyes flew open, startled, and he found himself gazing into green pools. Trenton was up on his elbow, leaning over him. A quick glance down to his crotch, and Clive saw the boy's hand wrapped tightly around his erection, working with smooth assurance. He gasped, "Oh, God, Trenton! I didn't mean..."

Trenton put his face against Clive's. He didn't kiss him, he only held his cheek there against Clive's cheek, and whispered, "Please, sir. I need this. Please. Just this, I won't ask for more."

He heard the yearning in the boy's voice. Clive let himself relax, giving himself over to the sensations. Trenton's long, slender hand caressed him with firm gentleness, sliding on the passion slicked flesh, squeezing at just the right time, in just the right place. He was so close... He panted, "Trenton, more. Give me more."

Trent understood. His motions became more rapid and a little rough, tugging at the hardened dick strongly. When he brought his other hand down and gripped Clive's balls tightly his lover spasmed, crying out his name as the hot sperm fountained out. It bathed Trenton's hands, and slicked Clive's heaving belly.

Clive lay there, near stunned, panting. Trenton had moved down in the bed, and he was lapping the spunk off Clive's belly like a kitten. When he tried to move down to the sticky, softening cock, Clive pulled him up. Ignoring his small protests, he held the boy tightly. At last Trenton quieted, laying his head on Clive's chest.

Clive stroked the dark curls. At last he said quietly, "That shouldn't have happened, Trenton, but I can't regret it."

"Clive?" The boy sounded bewildered. "I... didn't get hard."

Clive chuckled. "Oh, don't sound so apologetic, sweetheart. You haven't been well. That's part of why I tried to tell you to wait. I told you it's too soon. Don't worry..." He tipped Trenton's chin up and kissed him. "You'll be a little stud stallion once you've been rested and fed up a bit."

Trenton's hand was creeping down Clive's torso. "Maybe later?"

Clive firmly removed Trent's hand. "No, and I mean it." He kissed Trent again. "The next time we have sex, precious, it's going to be..." Clive bit his lip, studying the boy who was gazing up at him. He stroked Trenton's cheek with one finger. "I'm going to fuck you next time."

Trenton shivered, pressing his face against Clive's throat. Clive's lips pressed to his ear. "It's what you want, isn't it, dear?" Trenton nodded silently. "I'm warning you, Trent--I won't hold back." He smoothed his hands over the boy's back, through the slit in the hospital gown. "I'm going to do a full scene with you. All of it." His hands cupped rounded buttocks, squeezing. "I want to put a nice pink flush on this before I go inside. Will you be able to take it?" His lips pressed more firmly, and the tip of his tongue flicked out, caressing the curve of the ear. "Can you take all of me, little boy?"

Trenton moaned. "Yes, Clive. Yes, sir. I want to. I've wanted to a long time."

"Then you will, and soon. But not now. Rest, sweetheart. Rest, and be strong for me." Trenton shivered again at Clive's dark tone. "You'll need to be."