The Heart of a Dancer

Copyrightę 2012 -- Nicholas Hall

 

The Heart of a Dancer - Chapter Three --"Night Terrors"

Life was improving, my recovery beginning in earnest. The last week in the hospital, Malachi and Micah accompanied me to my physical therapy sessions so, as Malachi put it "if I'm not home, Micah can still help you." I had no problem with that, Micah was only three years younger than me and a friend from our dancing days in Iowa City. Without saying it, Malachi and I knew I was going to move in with him and Micah. Neither of us wanted a separation like the wrenching experience we just experienced.

The day I was to be discharged, after the doctor examined me, I broached the subject of intercourse with him. "Now that I'm on the road to recovery, are there any restrictions to my sex life?"

The doctor thought a moment, responding, "Your equipment wasn't damaged so it should work just fine. The stomach and back muscles, where we made the incisions, are quite weak, so I would wait a week or so. Try it on your side, with her doing most of the work and see how that works out."

His last comment caused me to smile as I casually said, "Doc, I'm gay; basically a bottom, but versatile since I like to top every now and again."

Clearly embarrassed, the doctor smiled back, apologized, shaking his head replied, "Well that sort of changes my recommendation. We did some internal surgery to repair the damage to your small intestine, your liver, and to remove a kidney. Your lower bowel was not damaged, but I'd wait at least a month before any anal sex and then very gently. If your partner is above average in size, don't let him thrust too hard or far. I want those incisions to heal well. Otherwise, there's nothing wrong with mutual masturbation or oral sex after a week or so. The two of you will have to be the judges of that."

Malachi arrived alone, explaining Micah had class, to take me home. Home was a pleasant three bedroom ranch with a two car garage on a large lot in one of the suburbs. After parking in one of the empty bays, Malachi helped me into the house and placed me in a very comfortable easy chair in the large living room. Leaning back, I could hear him hustling around in the kitchen preparing us a light lunch. When he finished, returning to help me to the kitchen, he said, "Micah and I moved your clothes and things into my bedroom. Your computer and other items are in the spare bedroom. Micah and I'll bring your truck home this evening and park it in the other stall in the garage."

After lunch, he helped me to what was now our bedroom and while I sat on the bed, he arranged several foam mats on the floor in preparation for my exercises. Undressing me to my boxers, assisting me to the mats, making certain I was comfortable, he began the hour or so of exercises I was required to do to build up my strength. I was tired, sweating, and hurting after we finished, so I closed my eyes to rest, and upon awakening, discovered I was covered with a light blanket with Malachi laying on his side next to me, starring, smiling at me.

Running his hand softly across my face, then leaning over to kiss me gently on my lips, he murmured, "You're so beautiful," and pulled closer so our bodies touched, causing me to respond by kissing him back, opening my mouth to receive his tongue, I carefully, warmly sucked it into my own moist receptacle. Malachi's hands were slipping slowly down my sides, uncertain, worrying if he'd hurt my injured areas. Looking at me with apprehension, I nodded my approval to continue, but cautioning, "No intercourse for a month, according to the doctor."

Malachi chuckled, slipped one hand under the waistband of my shorts, encircled my growing tumescence with it, jacked my stiff cock a couple of times to test its steel, leaned over, and began kissing his way down my stomach until he reached my waist. Pulling my shorts the rest of the way down and then off, he laved his way to my pubic bush, gravitated to my cock, and licked it like a lollipop, beginning at the outside of the base, up the shaft, around the head, tickling my sensitive glans with each pass, and teasing the slit with his tongue. Finally, as I squirmed trying to thrust myself a bit, his moist lips encased it, sliding the full length of its slickness into his warmth, moist, inviting mouth. With no more than a few bobs, my balls boiling, I moaned and began spewing myself into his waiting vessel. Malachi remained attached, refusing to release me, and continued suckling me, removing every drop of my essence, until I started to wilt. Finished, he kissed me again, giving me a taste of myself and him. God, life was so good with him!

Catching my breath, I pulled his head up, kissed him again and moved my uninjured hand to his crotch, unzipped his pants, freeing his already engorged rod, and began sliding the foreskin covering back and forth over the now very sensitive head, masturbating him slowly, sensually, and effectively. I felt him began to tense and suddenly he erupted ropes of cum across my stomach, coating my hand, as he shuddered in his pleasure, whimpering his delight and love for me. After climaxing, he retrieved a warm, damp washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned both of us of the residue of our carnal pleasure. Covering me with a soft blanket, he cuddled up next to me, holding me in a loving embrace until I slept.

Malachi took two weeks of vacation to spend at home with me. During that time, he fixed my meals, drove me twice weekly to my outpatient therapy sessions, assisted me with my in-home exercises, and finally, most deliciously and delightfully showered with me. As he said, "it was to ensure I got everything clean, since I was disabled and may not be able to reach everything." What a lame excuse, but a very nice one! No anal intercourse in the process, but we were able to love each other in many other different ways.

It gave me "quality time," as the various pundits like to call it, to know my lover, his beautiful brother, and their family. They still had one aunt living, two male cousins who were her sons, and an absent father somewhere in the country. The father left the home when Micah was six or so and hadn't been heard from since. Their mother was a nurse who worked odd hours, so their mother's mother, "Granny" as they called her, moved in with them to take care of the boys. Malachi was in his third year of college, majoring in social work, when Granny died, so he continued living at home taking care of Micah, then fourteen, when his Mom was working.

Malachi graduated from college, decided to attend the police academy, and was hired by the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation. When Micah was a junior in high school, their mother passed away from a heart attack. Fortunately, the house was paid for and there was sufficient insurance money to help with Micah's education. The two brothers decided to stay together, until Micah chose to go to Iowa City to school, and, to the chagrin of Malachi, joined our little dance troupe. That came to an end with the attack on him and he now attended Drake, working for a bachelor's degree in nursing.

Micah was just as excited at Malachi to have me home. It sounded strange to say "home" to me, but I was home, living with my Malachi and Micah. Knowing Micah from our dance days made the transition much easier. So much had happened since my move to Des Moines; I fell in love, moved in with my lover and his brother, and was ready to start a life with both of them. It was a great two weeks with Malachi home, but he had to go back to work. Micah stepped right in and took over during the daytime hours he didn't have classes and was home. He studied then, helped me with my exercises, fixed my lunch, prepared supper for Malachi when he came home, and assisted me with my showers by stepping in with me to clean me. I couldn't help but notice he was no less of a man than his brother; uncut, perhaps an inch or so longer, but not as thick. These two men were certainly blessed. It didn't bother either of us, even if we popped a stiffy in the process of either washing or drying.

My progress was excellent and my office visits reduced accordingly. I was healing nicely, inside and out, and the doctor gave the go-ahead for a complete sex life, but gently. Malachi was pleased and so was I. There was no doubt he loved me greatly since there were mornings I'd awaken finding him fully sheathed in my chute, gently massaging my prostate with the head of his rod. Man, he filled me with that beautiful love stick and his jizz every time he entered me. How he could do it so easily, so lovingly, so painlessly, and how I could accommodate that huge piece of man-flesh, I'll never quite understand. All I know is, I loved it and he couldn't fuck me often enough or long enough as far as I was concerned. There were those days when he'd have a particularly rough day chasing bad guys, collapse in bed, so tired to make love, he would apologize. But, during the night, while he slept, he'd dream of me, slide himself forward, pull me back up against his crotch, slip inside, and slowly fuck until shuddering, pushing balls deep inside me, release his sperm, giving them a home in my bowels. Putting his arms around me, keeping me close and anchored securely to him with his semi-stiff rod, he'd sleep more peacefully the rest of the night.

As Easter approached, Micah became quite busy studying for mid-term exams and Malachi with a number of cases that developed over the winter months. He claimed when winter began to drag on and people became bored, they tended to drink more, engage in spousal and child abuse, and fuck their kids. It is a sad commentary on modern civilized humans. I wonder why there's so much disrespect for others, yet, I'm certain it's been going on since man first walked the earth. I was so proud of Malachi and his job, although it was really stressful on him. All I could do was to try to make it easier on him once he came home and give him the love he so richly deserved.

Micah needed just as much attention. Although college came easy for him, nursing is a strenuous course to study and follow. He was extremely serious concerning his classes and his grades really showed it. His grade point average was a 3.80 and it was his intention to keep it that way. In so many ways he was still growing up, battling his own demons and still continuing his education. I know it was Malachi's love for him, and now mine that gave him the support he needed.

Finally able to drive on my own, one day I motored over to my school and dropped in to see the principal. Walking down the hall to the office, I realized how much I missed the place and working there. I was anxious to return to work, but the doctors still hadn't released me, although I felt just fine. I had a few minor motor difficulties, but was improving rapidly. The principal was pleased to see me, but very pessimistic concerning my return to work yet that year. Seated behind his desk, he bade me to sit down. "Mr. Westmoreland, your doctors haven't released you yet. You're still on long-term disability and will be so until they do release you. I have a long-term substitute in the classroom, so I'd think the earliest you'd return would be this fall with the start of the new school year -- if then."

My stomach began churning as I heard his last comments. "What do you mean --`if then'?" I inquired hesitantly.

After hemming and hawing for a few moments, he finally sputtered, "Mr. Westmoreland, with the current economic condition in the state and in the nation, the district's looking to cut costs and I'm afraid there will be significant layoffs next year. Those with the least seniority will be the first to get pink slips- you know, last hired, first fired sort of thing. Frankly, you're one of the last hired, so your chances of being retained aren't very good."

I felt like saying, "Well, fuck you very much!" but I didn't, instead I just muttered some damn stupid thing and left his office. I was so damned low, I could sit on a sheet of toilet paper and still have room to swing my feet. The job I truly loved was about to be discontinued and I was about to join the ranks of the unemployed. Once my disability ran out, I'd have some unemployment compensation coming, but at some point I'd have to find a job since my health insurance would run out and I couldn't afford to buy my own outright. I pretty much decimated my savings just getting settled this first year and those additional costs due to my injuries. Life can be a pisser sometimes!

Once home, I puttered about the house, trying to keep busy, but unable to concentrate on any task except my own problems. I finally decided to get my shit together and fix supper. Malachi and Micah would both be home and after a good dinner, a few after dinner drinks, and some straight talk we might be able to come up with a solution to the mess I was in.

Cleaning up after dinner, I casually said, "Guys, we have a situation we need to talk about."

Hearing the concern in my voice, they quickly cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and headed to the living room. Malachi fixed us drinks, motioned me to the couch, and joined Micah and I there. I was sort of sandwiched in between them. Many times I fantasized being in a sandwich with the two of them, however all three of us naked; kind of `piggy in the middle' with me in the middle and either Micah or Malachi skewering me up the ass while I did the other one. However, this wasn't a recreational event we were having, not this time.

I wiped my hands on my pants several times, swallowed hard, and slowly, carefully explained what happened when I went to the school principal's office. I found it most difficult to speak concerning my future, my health insurance situation, and how important it was that I contribute to the finances in our home. I knew that Malachi had a great job, with a nice salary, but I felt it'd be unfair to him to have to carry the entire burden. Swallowing sadly, I finally said, "If I have to work somewhere else and come home weekends, I'll do it. I just can't leave the two of you."

Malachi put his arms around me, pulled me close, cuddled me, saying, "Don't worry about it, Matt, something will come up. Things are going to work out for us." Comforted, wishing I was as confident as he was, I kissed him back, nodding my acceptance. Micah, watching us closely, started to tear up, leaned into me, and with a choking voice, sobbed, "Don't leave us Matt; don't leave me, I just couldn't take it." Malachi reached around me and drew his brother into an embrace with me.

"Micah honey," he crooned, "Matt's not going to leave us. Calm down. You'll just get yourself all upset. Let's sleep on this and perhaps by morning we'll come up with a solution that'll keep us together and Matt happy."

Micah finally calmed down, sat with his arm around me, while the three of us reclined on the couch watching the news. He kissed us both goodnight and went to bed.

When we went to bed, Malachi stepped into Micah's room to check on him. Back in our room, he slipped his nude body into bed next to mine, spooned me, wrapping his arms around me, and as he fondled me to a roaring erection said, "He's asleep and I hope he stays that way all night." Our love making was quiet, gentle, but intensely passionate that night before we both fell into a sound sleep.

The house was quiet, eerily quiet, although something had awakened me. I lay in bed straining, listening, and trying to determine the cause of my discomfort. Malachi's arms were around me, his breathing steady, soft, so it wasn't him. Although he was still semi-stiff and partially embedded in me, he was making no effort to begin our tryst again. I continued to listen intently, heard nothing, so I closed my eyes hoping to drift off again into restful sleep.

"Malachi, help me! Malachi, help!" came screams of terror from Micah's room.

Malachi awakened immediately, jumped up from our bed, moaning, "Oh, shit, it's Micah" and raced off to his room.

By the time I arrived in Micah's room, Malachi was holding him in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth, calming him, as Micah sobbed, choking out, "He's back, Malachi. The dark voice in the nightmare's back and I'm so scared! Don't leave me, Malachi, please don't leave me!"

The fear and anguish in his voice as he clutched at his older brother was genuine and heart rending. Malachi continued to speak softly to him, "I'm not going to leave you, Micah, honey. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Micah continued to choke back his sobs, "If Mattie can't find a job, he'll leave and you'll go with him, then what'll I do? I won't have anybody."

"He's not going to leave us Micah. I'll work something out, I love him, you know, and he loves us."

Micah nodded his head against his brother's chest, saying, "But I love him too and I want the three of us to be together."

With that, my heart almost torn in two by Micah's pleading and distress, I walked over to the bed, lifted Micah from Malachi's arms, looking at Malachi, seeking his approval. He gave a slight nod, so I hugged Micah tight to me, pulled his face to mine, and kissed him gently on the lips, "Micah, honey," I said, "come to bed with Malachi and me. We won't abandon you, Love," and led him to our bedroom. Once there, we placed Micah between us, and while I spooned into his back, reaching across his stomach to pull him closer, Malachi pulled up close, chest to chest, and reached across him to embrace both of us. Micah was sandwiched between us; secure knowing the two people he loved most in the world were protecting him from those terrors of the night he was suffering from. He fell asleep in just minutes. After he did, I looked up at Malachi, he smiled back at me, and we slept that way the rest of the night, naked, and safe.

The next morning, when I awakened, Micah was facing me, pressed tight up against me, his face buried in my neck, drooling just a bit, while his hard, smooth cock was lying beside mine. I felt him stir, then raise up; look around, figure out where he was, and slowly began to get up. Gently, carefully, he tried crawling across me to get out of bed without waking me, but, equipped in the penis department like his brother, his long, slender rod danced across my equally stiff member, causing it to bounce a couple of times from the stimulation. Micah made no comment, but continued out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.

I immediately slid across the bed to the waiting arms of my lover, reached down, and grasped my favorite toy, ready and willing to play in my yard. Malachi easily rolled me to my back, spread my legs, lifted my butt, and journeyed up my rear passage with his love tool. I was still greased from our union when we first went to bed, so he was able to slip in quickly and deep with little effort, on his part. Me, well, taking a cock as big as his was always a bit of an effort, but who am I to complain? Perhaps I was becoming more accustomed to that marvelous meat making its home in my abdomen, at least my sphincter didn't object. Malachi fucked me slowly, lovingly, and stimulating me to a shuddering pleasure every time his thick cock-head massaged my prostate as he thrust forward and back. I felt him increase his efforts, then begin to swell, and knew he was close to pumping his seed into me. When he did, I could hold back no longer, and spewed myself, coating us both. God, I love this man!

After breakfast and after Micah left for his classes, Malachi rose from the table, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat back down, a very serious expression on his face.

"Hon," he began, "we need to talk about Micah and his nightmares."

I nodded for him to proceed, as I settled back with a fresh cup of coffee for myself.

"His nightmares started years ago, when he was about six or seven, shortly after Mom kicked dear old Dad out of the house. She said she had had it with his drugs, booze, and other crap. He got ten years for auto theft just after I was born, but got released after six. He was pretty good for a couple of years, good enough to get Mom pregnant with Malachi. After he was born, Dad became more and more absent from home. Soon we wouldn't see him for several months and then he'd reappear. Apparently, he was picking up with his old buddies again. He drank more and Mom and he fought more."

"Then one night they had one hell of a knock-down, drag-out nut-busting fight. I was going to get up and call the cops when Micah came crying into my bed. He was scared shitless. I held him a minute, told him to stay in my room, picked up a baseball bat from my closet, and walked out in the living room. I was about fourteen then and just a bit smaller than I am now. Anyway he was smacking Mom around and didn't hear me when I came up behind him. I rammed him in the ass with the baseball bat and when he turned around; I took a swing and hit him in the gut. Shit, he caved like an old man's cock. On the way down, I hit a homerun to his balls, and he stayed down. He screamed, rolled over on his side, swore nasty things at me, and when I raised the bat again to hammer his head, he rolled again, away from me, still cursing. That poor fucker was in agony and that suited me just fine. When he finally rose up to his knees, I threatened to bash his head in and stuff him in a dumpster for the garbage man if he didn't get his fuckin' ass out of the house and never come back. That's the last we ever saw of him."

I helped Mom to her bedroom and after she reassured me she was fine, I went back to my bed where Micah was laying waiting for me. When I crawled into bed, he wrapped his arms around me and stayed that way all night. Once in a while he'd wake, cry a bit, and when I kissed him, said it'd be fine, he'd just snuggle in closer and then go back to sleep. Micah slept with me for maybe three or four months after that before he went back to his own bedroom. He thought it was neat that I slept nude, so that's when he began. Mom didn't think it was near as great as we did, but she never stopped us."

"About one year later, Micah had his first real nightmare. Then, as now, he crawled into bed with me, cuddled for comfort, and fell asleep. That's continued off and on for all of these years. Sometimes, he'd sleep with me for a couple of weeks, at least until he felt safe enough to return to his own room."

"What are the nightmares?" I asked, concerned for Micah, thinking that it might give me a clue.

"Micah doesn't really remember, except its always dark and a deep voice, a shadowy voice according to him, seems to be trying to crawl into his ear and breathing heavy, almost macabre, and he gets absolutely terrified. Sometimes I have a difficult time awakening him, but once I do, all he wants to do is have me hold him tight and comfort him and then he seems to be fine. When he is under certain stresses, the nightmares can really be bad and frequent. When he was in high school, Mom died of a heart attack and he slept with me for months -- so get used to it."

"So," I pondered, "when he thought I was going to leave and possibly you too, it sent him into a tizzy and hence the nightmare."

"Right you are my sweet lover. You know, he loves you almost as much as I do."

I knew that only too well. Although Malachi was my mate, my soul-mate, Micah held part of my heart also, and I'd do anything for him. Taking a deep breath, looking at Malachi, I said, "Well, I'm not going to leave, but I do need to find a job in order to carry my health insurance. After this shooting episode, I just can't afford to be without it."

Malachi shrugged his shoulders, looked at me with eyes that melted my heart, and said, "Why not be carried on mine? You could, you know, if you'd marry me."

To be continued.

**

Thank you for reading Chapter 3 -- "Night Terrors" from "The Heart of a Dancer."  I hope you enjoyed it and I invite you to follow "The Heart of a Dancer" to its eventual conclusion.  Other stories of mine can be found at:

Nifty- Beginnings - "Table Number Five" -- January 18, 2012

Nifty- Beginnings -"The Carpenter and the Piano Man" -- January 24, 2012

Nifty-Beginnings -- "Gillie" -- January 31, 2012

Nifty-High School - Sheldon's Nutshuckers

"The Stinky Pinky" -- February 14, 2012.

"The Head of Medusa" -- March 8, 2012

Nifty- Beginnings --"Last House on the Left" -- February 21, 2012

Nifty-College -- "First of May" -- February 29, 2012

The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author.

Positive comments are welcome and appreciated at:  nick.hall8440@gmail.com