Paris Fabian Hart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foreverfabulous) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2017-01-21 11:54 pm
foreverfabulous) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2017-01-21 11:54 pm
"I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes."
Who: Paris and Michael Hart
What: In sickness and in health
Where: Home, Upper East Side
When: Saturday
Paris had been out of hospital a few days now. The extra treatment they had given him helped him feel better, and he was no longer constantly dizzy that he couldn't even lift his head from the pillow. He couldn't say he felt well, because he still had fucking cancer and he was still going through chemotherapy, but he definitely felt better than he had. Better enough to have gotten to the point where he was no in bed - naked - with his husband. He was propped up on an array of expensive pillows with expensive pillow cases, in his expensive bed, on an expensive mattress. It was all a very far cry from the shit he had to contend with in his hospital. He and Mikey had taken a long bath together, and Paris felt more closer to human than he had during the entire hospital stay.
He got adventurous, and hopeful. Too hopeful, apparently. Down below, Mikey lying between his legs giving it his best damn try to get Paris aroused with his expert oral skills, and their partner in crime, Mikey's fingers. Not even that amazing thing Mikey did to his balls were working, though. Paris lay there on his back, hand on Mikey's head, and for the last five minutes had been trying to will his cock to work. He would've tried praying, if he had even just a hint of hope a god might exist. He wasn't remotely religious, though. He figured he would have better luck trying to summons Harry Potter to his room with a bit of wand magic to try to beat Paris' 'wand' into submission. But it wasn't happening.
Soon, with a growl of frustrating, he nudged at Mikey's shoulder with his fingers. "Fuck. Stop. Just... stop. It's not fucking happening," he bitched, grabbing the edge of the sheets and tugging them over his lap. His cock was as limp as a fucking soggy noodle. It was pathetic, and he was embarrassed. He had never even come close to having ED in his life, and now he couldn't even piss out of his dick properly. His body was crapping out on him, and it sucked.
What: In sickness and in health
Where: Home, Upper East Side
When: Saturday
Paris had been out of hospital a few days now. The extra treatment they had given him helped him feel better, and he was no longer constantly dizzy that he couldn't even lift his head from the pillow. He couldn't say he felt well, because he still had fucking cancer and he was still going through chemotherapy, but he definitely felt better than he had. Better enough to have gotten to the point where he was no in bed - naked - with his husband. He was propped up on an array of expensive pillows with expensive pillow cases, in his expensive bed, on an expensive mattress. It was all a very far cry from the shit he had to contend with in his hospital. He and Mikey had taken a long bath together, and Paris felt more closer to human than he had during the entire hospital stay.
He got adventurous, and hopeful. Too hopeful, apparently. Down below, Mikey lying between his legs giving it his best damn try to get Paris aroused with his expert oral skills, and their partner in crime, Mikey's fingers. Not even that amazing thing Mikey did to his balls were working, though. Paris lay there on his back, hand on Mikey's head, and for the last five minutes had been trying to will his cock to work. He would've tried praying, if he had even just a hint of hope a god might exist. He wasn't remotely religious, though. He figured he would have better luck trying to summons Harry Potter to his room with a bit of wand magic to try to beat Paris' 'wand' into submission. But it wasn't happening.
Soon, with a growl of frustrating, he nudged at Mikey's shoulder with his fingers. "Fuck. Stop. Just... stop. It's not fucking happening," he bitched, grabbing the edge of the sheets and tugging them over his lap. His cock was as limp as a fucking soggy noodle. It was pathetic, and he was embarrassed. He had never even come close to having ED in his life, and now he couldn't even piss out of his dick properly. His body was crapping out on him, and it sucked.