Scooter and Malachi Chapter 5
Parker's Love – Scooter and Malachi
Copyright© 2018 – Nicholas Hall
Chapter Five
"His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me."
(Song of Solomon)
As the body heals
Cayden and I waited in the reception waiting room while Mr. Taylor checked Malachi into the hospital. It didn't take long, but to me it seemed forever. Fortunately, I brought my book with me, anticipating long waits, giving me time to read.
While Cayden and I waited, our conversation was light, not really very deep or engaging, since our thoughts were elsewhere! Mine were on Malachi and my hopes this check-up would prove he was healing nicely, would be able to have his casts removed soon, and he was still disease free.
I did ask Cayden where and when they obtained Percy.
"Malachi told me you've had Percy since before Christmas. If it's none of my business, please say so, but where in the world did you find the bird?"
Chuckling at first, then laughing aloud, Cayden proceeded to tell me.
"Salty old bugger, isn't he?"
"More than salty," I responded with a slight snort, "He's got a potty-mouth vocabulary like a public restroom wall only more extensive and worse!"
An older gentleman, who Cayden befriended, fell ill, and had to enter a nursing home but couldn't take Percy with him; pets were not allowed. Even if they had been, I conjectured Percy would have had his feathers dusted or his carcass served ala carte to the ravens or coyotes shortly after being admitted to the nursing home as a "pet."
Cayden, a little more humane than I, admitted within ten minutes after Percy would've been allowed, he'd either be throttled by someone or pitched unceremoniously outside to live with the alley cats. Cayden's friend gave him custody of the bird until he was released from the nursing home. The elderly man had Percy for a number of years and had no idea how old the bird was when he gave custody to Cayden.
"The old gentleman never made it home, dying shortly after the New Year and we ended up stuck with Percy!"
"What ever will you do with him once the resort season begins? You can't very well have him squawking out dirty songs and stuff when guests are present." I could just see eyes rolling, reservations canceling, and the resort closing shortly thereafter if Percy were allowed to greet guests in his ribald manner.
"No, we keep him upstairs in our living quarters and away from open windows; at least on the side of the house toward the cottages. Wouldn't do the resort any good once he got wound up and started squawking his dirty, nasty, little ditties or announcements through an open window."
Malachi, now in a wheel chair being pushed by a hospital orderly, and Mr. Taylor, carrying Malachi's overnight bag, emerged from the reception room. Waving to us to follow and telling us he had a room, we followed them to the elevator and up to his hospital room.
The orderly, assisted by a couple nurses' aides, began removing Malachi's clothing, putting them into the closet, and putting him in one of those hospital gowns; the ones that are supposed to tie in the back and always flop open showing your bare ass to the world! I would've gladly assisted, making certain one certain large appendage was adequately covered or, in the very least, handy to latch on to, but I wasn't asked.
We waited outside the room for them to complete the task, hearing him mutter about how much he disliked the gowns. I stepped away to get a drink of water and when I looked up after sipping a mouthful, I saw Mr. Taylor and Cayden enter the hospital room and the orderly and nurses' aides leave. Entering the hospital room, I was greeted by Malachi's smiling face, grinning with the brilliance of a Lake Superior light house!
"Like your nightgown, grandma!" I joked, adding, "and my, what big teeth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!" Malachi smirked. Looking around, as if anyone would care, he added softly, almost conspiratorially, "these damn gowns, open in the back like they are, lets my dick drag on the seat of a wheel chair or the bottom sheet of the bed."
"Mine doesn't when I wear one."
He rolled his eyes, winked at me, and stared at my crotch, fully understanding, his dick was longer, fatter, and hung lower than mine, as if it made any difference to either of us. Hey, mine serves its multiple purposes; well, only two so far, pissing through and, you know...
Before we could pursue our little charade and innuendos of words, a nurse, carrying a tray of vials, syringes, and other paraphernalia, all looking to me as instruments meant to penetrate and cause some pain to the recipient of their administration, came into the room and announced she was there to draw some blood; from Malachi and Mr. Taylor. Cayden and I were asked to leave the room, again, as if we might corrupt the sample or, heaven forbid, pass out at the sight of blood and need emergency hospital services beyond the pale of the nurse.
I heard her tell Mr. Taylor and Malachi the doctor would be in in a few minutes, so I assumed she had drawn the blood she needed for whatever tests they were going to do. She stepped out and not one, but three doctors and two orderlies pushing a gurney, came down the hall and went into the room. We waited about twenty minutes before Mr. Taylor stepped out announcing they were going to take Malachi to an examining room and to X-ray so it might be up to two hours before he came back. Following him were the three doctors and Malachi on the gurney. He gave me a wave as he went by, asking,
"Be here when I come back?"
"You bet!" and I meant it. So when Mr. Taylor and Cayden suggested we go to lunch, since they were hungry, I begged off, telling them I'd just as soon wait here, read, and perhaps grab a sandwich from the hospital cafeteria. If I wasn't in his room when he returned, Malachi would be very disappointed and I didn't want to do that to him. Nor did I want to disappoint myself by not being able to spend as much time with him as I could.
I bought a meat and veggie wrap and a bottle of water, carried them back to Malachi's room, nibbled on the wrap, sipped on the water, and read my book. The easy chair I ensconced myself in was quite comfortable and time seemed to slip away.
In less than two hours Malachi was wheeled back to his room, put back into his bed, and the two of us were alone. He was in a great mood, so I supposed most of the news was good. Looking at me quite wickedly I thought, he motioned, with his now unbandage left hand, to me to join him close to the bed. I did, but somewhat warily, wondering what he was up to now. God, he looked so alluringly sexy. I was hard from the time I rose out of my chair to stand by his bedside.
Malachi rolled back the light covers, hitched up his hospital gown exposing his lower body, specifically from the navel down, and asked,
"What do you see?"
What I saw was a magnificent example of the human male anatomy; flaccid, thick uncut, languishing like a fat sausage resting on the counter, waiting for someone to pluck it up and stuff it in a bun, a giant bun! Decorating the root, much like moss around a thick tree, a moderate bush of black pubic hair, and below that sumptuous magnificent delight, contained in a smooth skinned large, low-hanging scrotum were his large, sizeable, apparently full by the looks of them, wobbling about as he jostled his gown, balls! Honest to god, I've not seen hen's eggs I thought were as big, but perhaps, in relation to my own gonads, their apparent size were defined by the eyes and mind, by way of comparison, of the beholder.
He noticed my hesitation and snorted with exasperation!
"Not that; you've seen it before! No diaper, doofus- I don't need them anymore!"
Embarrassed, I could only continue to stare, open-mouthed, as I noticed his member begin to grow, much I thought like the bean stalk in the fabled fairy tale, only this was no bean stalk! No, this was more like a mighty oak or an apparition one fantasizes about, a helmeted warrior, one eye slowly peeking out from under his hood, as if to survey the world about it, deciding whether to ravish it, enjoy it, or do all of the above. I wanted so much to hold it, caress it, and even taste its delicacy, but I didn't.
His lower midriff and pelvis area was now exposed to the world, free from any impediment or covering, providing me with an unfettered view of his slim waist, slightly raised pelvic bones, and the delightfulness of his very sparse treasure trail of dark hairs on his tan body leading to his cock! What an inviting sight! I could feel myself beginning to swell, my jeans becoming more restricting and tight in the crotch as my own tumescence grew.
I shifted my eyes to Malachi's face, noticed the twinkle in his eyes that signaled more than just happiness; lust and desire shone brightly as well, as his eyes scanned my crotch and the bulge beginning to form there.
"Yeah, it's nice!" I commented. "No more shitty diapers for me to change and clean up afterwards," hoping the topic would bring some diminishment and deflation to my current condition.
Malachi's voice lowered seriously, sensuously. "But I enjoyed your cleaning methods. Maybe we could just pretend!"
I looked back down toward his crotch and watched his cock continue to swell and lengthen until it extended almost to his belly-button. Reaching over, I slowly pulled up the covers, as much as I wanted to pull something else!
"Better cover this before someone comes in, sees this, and faints dead away or, heaven forbid, have it attack or spit all over me if it became overly excited!"
He patted the bed next to him.
"Crawl up here and lay with me, please?"
He snickered, "Please note I said `lay' and not `play' although I wouldn't object if you did."
Snuggling up against him, I picked up his left hand, commenting, "Hey, the bandage is gone from your hand. What fingers were hurt?"
I would have taken him up on his previous offer, but I feared someone would pop in the room before I could pop him off.
He held up his middle finger and laughed.
"The wrapping is off of my ribs, too!"
I hadn't really noticed, I was so intrigued with what was evident in his crotch. As if to further convince me his ribs were no longer bound, he took my left hand, slid it under the covers and his gown, instructing me, "to feel!"
Oh, feel I did, running my hand and fingers up and down his ribs, across his chest, and back. He held my hand, looked me in the eye, and slowly inched it down his torso until I came in contact with his tumescent penis!
"The doctors showed me exercises for therapy I could do with my left hand in order to bring back the flexibility and strength, but since what I usually do right-handed, I thought I could do left-handed, but it might be awkward. Perhaps I could persuade someone, once we're home, to help me with my therapy?"
I flicked a finger across his cock-head, causing the length to jerk and him give a slight moan, answering, "I suppose it could be arranged, if you'll be a good boy in return for my services!"
I pulled my hand back out, concerned someone really would step in suddenly and wonder what we were up to. It wouldn't take three guesses with the first two not counting, to figure it out. There wasn't much room on the bed for two of us, but as small as I am, we scooched around until we both fit. Malachi put his left arm around my head and shoulder, looked at me, smiled and sighed,
"I've wanted to do this for so long!"
"I'm glad your Uncle Dave's friend notified him about you or I'd never have met you!" I spoke softly into his ear.
Malachi was silent, thinking, before he responded.
"It really didn't happen that way, but Uncle Dave thought it'd be best all the way around to explain it that manner without embarrassing me too much. It was my mother who finally called him!"
The hospital, once Malachi was coherent enough to tell them who he was and where he lived, got in contact with his mother and Judge Lawson. She gave them permission to treat him. He thought it was probably the next day or perhaps a couple of days later, his memory was really fuzzy on the time line, when his mother and the Judge came to his hospital room. He'd just been given a pain killer to help him rest. Nightmares developing from the rape, would awaken him, and the doctors were concerned about him resting! He thought he heard her tell the Judge if she could locate her "queer brother" she'd see if he'd take him.
"I heard other things," he revealed, "but I can't be certain I heard them or imagined them. My mind was playing such nasty tricks on me. I'd wake up and scream for help, thinking and feeling I was being raped again, hearing the one bastard say over and over, `why we're going to fuck you'! Another time, I thought I heard my mother say to one of the Judge's sons, `I thought you said we'd never see him again'!"
"Did you tell anyone about what you heard?"
"No, Scooter, because I don't know if I really heard it! Maybe I was just hallucinating; besides, they could deny it quite easily and blame it on the medication and trauma."
"That's horseshit!"
"Got that right, but I thought I heard someone, while I was being hauled around sometime after I was nabbed, someone say, "he's worth ten grand and you know it!" but I couldn't be certain. Again, they could deny it! I'll bet the Judge's sons have alibi's as solid as concrete."
Those were the voices he heard in his dreams; those were the voices he remembered; those were the voices of people he was familiar with; his mother's, the Judge's, and the Judge's sons. Any good defense attorney could rip apart his story in a heartbeat, so he said nothing.
"Maybe I didn't say anything to anybody except you, because I think of them, you know, like Dorothy did in that old movie, `The Wizard of Oz!' She thought people she knew in real life came back when she was knocked out during the storm."
Personally, I didn't think Malachi was wrong, but the mind could play tricks, but what am I to criticize? Hadn't I had a conversation with Uncle Grant and Grandpa the morning Grandpa died? I'd never met Uncle Grant, only seen pictures of him. Didn't I hold Grandpa's hand while he and Uncle Grant lay in bed, embracing each other as they joined each other on their journey to eternity? Didn't I stop and visit with them at the cemetery whenever I passed by or had a problem?
The telling of his hallucinations caused me to tell him of Grandpa Parker's last hours on earth, how I met Uncle Grant, and how I hesitated to tell Dad about it when he followed me out on the dock a day or so after the funeral.
"I think he thought I was going to do something stupid, but I hadn't even thought of it!"
I quickly looked at Malachi! "Don't you even think of it either or I'll be more than just a little pissed!"
He hugged me tighter, giving me concerns I'd re-injure some part of him, but was reassured I wouldn't; in fact he thought it might make him heal faster. I snuggled my face closer to his, his warm breath caressing my cheek and my lips as we lay there.
"Someday," I suggested, "if you don't think I'm completely wacko, I'd like to introduce you to them, if you don't mind talking to a headstone in a cemetery!"
Malachi kissed my cheek with lips so soft and warm they caused me to shiver with delight and sexual longing, wanting to give myself entirely to him.
"That'd be nice," he said, "if you don't think they'll think you have a nut case for a boyfriend who imagines his own mother brokered the sale of her son to sex traffickers!"
Our conversation moved from his rape to more personal things such as my growing up in Madison, as did he; the house on the west side (he lived on the southeast side), where I went to high school (he didn't live in Madison then), my dad's practice, and all there was to do in Madison.
"Did you ever go to State's Street on Halloween night?" he asked.
"Oh my god, yes; totally awesome! Dad and Mom would take us and we'd wander around until they thought the crowd was getting too boisterous and we'd go home. The year before we moved, we were down there amidst the crowd watching the parade and a large group of college guys came hooting and hollering down the street. All of them were in tight, flesh colored body suits, probably long underwear, so they looked naked. Attached to the crotch of each one was a long, flesh colored stuffed tube about the size of a small baseball bat! God, it looked vulgar as hell, but really, really funny!"
"James, my second to youngest brother was about nine at the time. Now, you have to understand James is the least-talkative, shyest, and most bashful of the bunch of us. Anyway, he saw that bunch coming down the street, the fake cocks wobbling, bobbing up and down, flopping about like a large fish seeking water, his mouth gapped open, his eyes were wide, and he sputtered, `Oh my god, look at the cocks on those guys!' The Minx, that's Terrence my youngest brother, immediately shouted to Mom that James said a bad word!"
"Mom immediately admonished James, suggesting in the future he find a more appropriate way to describe what he was seeing. James was mortified Mom had to reprimand him, gently of course, apologized, and glared at The Minx! The Minx, well-satisfied he'd done his duty, figured he'd offer his older brother some advice, and told him `at least you could have said pecker or dick!"
Malachi and I both laughed; he because it was the first time he'd heard the story and me, because I thought it was just plain damn funny.
"Who's The Minx?" he asked as tears of happiness ran down his cheeks.
"Our youngest brother; his real name is Terrence, but Grandfather Parker nicknamed him The Minx!"
"The Minx sounds like a real character!"
"Yeah, he is, Malachi! One time, when we still lived in Madison, he was probably five or so, I was helping him with his bath before bedtime. He loved a bubble bath, playing in the bubbles, giggling as they'd float around, trying to catch them with his hands. All of sudden he rumbled out a big fart! It just sort of bubbled up behind him from between his little butt cheeks. He looked over his shoulder like a dog does when it farts and instead of sniffing, he busted out singing `I'm Forever Farting Bubbles!' I couldn't shut him up! He did when Mom poked her head in the door to see who was making all of the racket."
"Do all of your brothers have nicknames?"
"All except James."
"So, Scooter, what is your real, full name?"
"Josiah Grant Dickenson Parker!"
I spent some time explaining how I was named after my grandfather and Uncle Grant Hoffman. Malachi didn't really laugh, just smiled in his sly, erotic, completely provocative way, bringing me to imagine what he was thinking when he heard about me "scooting" across the floor. I could now imagine "scooting" across the floor on my hands and knees, being prodded along or impaled on something other than my imagination!
I was just as curious what his full name is. "How about you?"
"Malachi Jericho Duranleau!? My middle name after my dad; first name, not a clue- kind of odd, right?"
I thought no different than my name, but listened as he explained, to the best of his knowledge how he came by the first and middle names. His names were given by his father and not his mother.
"He not only studied dance, but was interested in the history of the Old Testament, people of Northern India, and migration of peoples across Europe- ancient history stuff, I guess. Evidently, he came across the names of Biblical men or from other countries, picked one and thought it was neat, so that's who I became!"
This led to a lively discussion of the names and nicknames of my brothers and how they received them. When questioned why James didn't have one, I had no answer; he was just James to all of us, shy, bashful, loving, James! Grandpa once said he wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful of it.
"That's what surprised us all when he said, `cock' at the Halloween parade!"
"Do they know you're, you know, uh ...?
"Yeah, ever since I decided I was who I was and felt comfortable with it. After all, their grandfather was gay so being gay in our family was not something different. Of course, I don't announce it or flaunt it at school, at least up here. I'm not certain how some of these rednecks would take it."
There were other gay men (and boys I thought) in the area. Grandpa Parker had quite a few as friends and acquaintances. It was at one of his parties Cayden and Mr. Taylor got together, so there was a network of individuals who, closeted or otherwise, could be counted on for support or advice if needed. Malachi was fortunate, as a gay boy, to live in a household where two married gay men lived, one of those being his uncle by blood relation.
"Takes one us to know the other, doesn't it?" he quipped.
Malachi wondered if he'd have the chance to meet my brothers once the doctors felt he could be out and about among other people and not present a danger of spreading any diseases, if indeed he was exposed to the HIV virus. He reasoned as long as he didn't exchange body fluids, it'd be fine, but it was up to the doctors. It also meant, until he heard otherwise, if he should cut himself, become ill and vomit, those treating him would have to wear surgical gloves and dispose of soiled bandages or cleanup materials in a safe manner. Ordinary chlorine bleach was supposed to be effective on destroying the virus on environmental surfaces. I told him I don't think it'd work on somebody's cock since it might be a bit harsh and burn! He agreed, noting wiping a bleach soaked cloth up the asshole of your lover might not be wise either.
"So," I said, "no French kissing, huh?"
"Or blow-jobs!" Malachi chuckled, but with a disappointed look in his eyes when he said it.
We were still laughing, visiting, me still tucked up to his side on the bed, when his Uncle Dave and Cayden came back!
"Looks like you two are getting along!" Mr. Taylor commented as they walked into the room.
"You bet we are, Uncle Dave!" Malachi was proud to say it and mean it.
I thought I should hop down, wondering what they might think of me, and sit in a chair, but Malachi would have none of it. He wanted me up close and personal and, frankly, that's what I wanted as well. It didn't stop us from laughing and chattering however.
We sobered up when Malachi's doctor rapped on the door and stepped in.
"How's he doing?" he asked me, with a wink and a smile.
I blushed and scrambled off of the bed. "Fine, I think!"
The doctor continued to smile. "Thought so, by the looks of him!"
Stepping up to the bed he looked Malachi over closely. "Well, young man, Radiology looked over your X-Rays and evidently, because you're young, in excellent shape before your misadventure, or because of the mega-vitamins we've had you on, we'll be removing the casts from your arm and foot tomorrow morning. You'll have to wear an elastic foot brace for a couple of weeks until you build up strength in the foot and use crutches during that time. At the end of two weeks we'll have you go to your local clinic and get the foot X-Rayed. They will send us the images and we can determine then if we want to remove the brace. I'm almost certain it will come off. After that, at least until you can stand the pressure on the foot, you may want to use a cane for a while. I am going to have you on physical therapy twice a week until the therapists releases you. Your uncle says the clinic has a person come in several times per week, so that'll be no problem. I hope to have some preliminary results from your blood tests in the morning as well. "
A quick check of his heart and a peek under the covers and gown (he didn't ask us to leave and Malachi really didn't care if we saw anything. It's not as if I wasn't already familiar with his most intimate parts anyway), the doctor gave him a pat on the shoulder, and told him he was doing fantastically well.
The doctor turned to me; "Watch over him for us won't you? He's more special to you than to us, isn't he?"
I just nodded! I was so happy I could've turned myself inside out and fallen through my bunghole!
"Oh, by the way," the doctor said as he prepared to leave, "I've written orders for you to be dismissed shortly after lunch tomorrow, unless you want to stay for another couple of nights?"
Malachi had no desire to stay any longer than necessary and made no bones about it. He wanted to get "home!" Home now, to him, was Cayden's Cottages on Crystal Lake, just outside of Rockport and that's where he wanted to be.
We bought our suppers in the cafeteria and brought them back up and ate them in Malachi's room while he ate his. There wasn't room for both of us on his bed when the hospital table was swung around in front of him so he could eat so I sat in a chair next to his bed. We ate, chattered, laughed, and ate some more. We just took our time. His Uncle Dave and Cayden said very little, just listened, absorbed what we talked about, and reveled in watching two young boys, newly discovered to each other, fall in love!
"Did you ever go to the Overture Center in Madison?" Malachi asked between bites.
Nodding, "We used to go there for special programs, not real often since they could be expensive to take all of us, but we saw musicals, some orchestral performances, and during the holidays, we all would go to see The Nutcracker!"
"Really? I danced in The Nutcracker a couple of seasons; not in a primary role," he grinned, "but as one of the extras- you know, one of the kids."
"Maybe I saw you!"
"Maybe; if you did, you would've recognized me as the most handsome, talented, and best dancer on the stage!"
His uncles sort of scoffed at his remarks, but I didn't. I could just envision Malachi on the stage, dressed in his tight ballet costume, slim hips, strong, long legs, lithe torso, elegant arms outstretched, and handsome face performing only for me, oblivious to all others in the audience, concentrating on bringing me pleasure, showing me his skills, exhibiting his love! Oh, how I hoped I could see him dance and dance, not a ballet, but perhaps a waltz or something with me, holding me, singing softly in my ear the words of romance in the song, moving me about the floor, his crotch up against mine, reacting to our closeness.
It was all I could do at that moment to keep from crawling up on the bed and planting a very passionate kiss on his soft, warm, and delectable lips. I didn't, reminding myself of the caution concerning the exchange of body fluids and the fact his uncles were sitting in the same room watching us.
"I really miss him, you know?" Malachi said sadly.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, we had such good times together. I often wonder what ever happened to him!"
"You don't suppose your mother ..."rolling my eyes in a cautionary way toward his uncles indicating I was going to say no more!
"Nah, I'd have heard about it somehow!"
The evening slipped by and before I knew it, it was time for visiting hours to close and us to leave for the motel. It was a short walk, but it was dark now, and better we all leave together. His uncles stepped outside the room door to wait for us to say our goodnights. I promised him I'd be back first thing in the morning, leaned over his bed, accepted his arm around me, kissed him on the lips (we kept our mouths closed), raised my head, and heard him say,
"Scooter Parker, I love you like I've never loved anyone before!"
To be continued:
***
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