Brokeback Island

Author's Note:

I especially liked the bog story, because that kind of happened to my sister when she was 8. We were at Crooked River (in the very southeast tip of GA) and she walked on what she thought was moss, but it was a bog. I don't know how deep she fell in, because I wasn't there, but I saw her when she got back to the cabin, dripping with yuckiness and missing a jelly shoe. Ah, the eighties. Remember jelly shoes? Anyway, she did NOT have a hot 14 year old cousin to save her (on that note, woo hoo, imagine the hotness of underage Vaughn! I imagine he had silver hair then too, only shorter, and he was not quite as tall as he is now, but still tall. Skinny and lanky, and adorably sulky and awkward. Awww!)

Okay, this chapter is a little serious and not at all sexy in some parts (read: there is talk of vomit and disease.) It's pretty tame, but it's just a warning. If you're just in this for the hot sex, read the first sex scene and then stop. You won't want to read the rest. But it's good relationship development for the guys, so it's worth it.

-------------------
Vaughn and Mark returned to the city on Thursday evening. The next morning, Mark felt rather nervous about going back to work, but Vaughn waited for him and walked him down there. The coffee shop opened at the crack of dawn anyway, so it didn't make Vaughn late to take him there. He kissed him briefly at the door. "You'll be fine," he assured him, rubbing a thumb over Mark's lower lip. "You have my work number. Call me if anything happens, which I'm sure it won't." Mark nodded, then accepted another kiss and bid him goodbye.

The day passed without event, much to Mark's relief. That evening, he made spaghetti for the two of them, they watched TV for a while, then turned into bed. "Want a back massage?" Mark asked timidly, reaching out and stroking Vaughn's long back.

"Hell yeah," Vaughn grunted, and he rolled onto his stomach, letting the little blonde climb on his back. Mark worked his hands steadily over Vaughn; kneading, pressing and rubbing. He slid his hands slowly down Vaughn's ass and squeezed there as well. Vaughn arched his hips just a little, and Mark took that as an invitation to bow his head and lash his tongue out at Vaughn's entrance. Vaughn groaned, and Mark remembered how much he had seemed to enjoy it with Will, so Mark felt like he had something to prove to an extent. He did it as energetically as he could, until Vaughn rolled over suddenly and urged him to suck on his cock instead.

Mark happily covered Vaughn's very rigid member with his mouth, sucking eagerly. Vaughn reached down and petted his head. "That's a good boy," he hissed, his voice full of desire. Mark murmured with his mouth full, then took Vaughn deep down his throat. Vaughn threw his head back and groaned with pleasure; making short, precise movements upwards with his hips. "Oh, Mark," he moaned.

He suddenly pushed Mark away and urged him to lay flat on his back. Then Vaughn got above him, straddling him at the shoulders and then inserting himself in Mark's mouth. He thrust greedily, and Mark reached up to grab his hips as he worked. Vaughn groaned in ecstasy, loving the feeling of fucking the boy square in the mouth. He felt himself spiraling towards the brink, and he began to grunt. "I wanna see you drink me," he groaned, then cried out with pleasure as his climax began to erupt. He pulled himself partially out of Mark's mouth, then watched his semen pulse onto Mark's tongue. He groaned in satisfaction, then pulled back as Mark swallowed. He flopped down on the bed next to him, and Mark sat up, bending over him momentarily to lap up a few drops that were slowly leaking out of the top. Vaughn patted him on the head, then closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

Mark snuggled himself up next to the satisfied cowboy. His own erection was unsatisfied, and it poked out, pressing into Vaughn's side. Vaughn chuckled when he noticed it, lifting his head off the bed just a fraction to glance down at it. "We have to do something about that, don't we?" Mark nodded eagerly. "Okay, I'll tell you what I want. I want to watch you jerk off."

Mark murmured happily, then sat up on his knees and started tentatively stroking at himself. As he began to speed up, his knees splayed outwards, and he sat back on his heels. Vaughn rolled on his side to watch, narrowing his eyes in pleasure as he gazed at Mark. He reached over to the side table and got the lube for Mark, tossing it on the bed in front of him. Mark paused his stroking to fully lubricate himself, then resumed, immediately picking up a much faster speed. He pumped himself energetically, staring at Vaughn's body as he did so. "Oh, Vaughn..." he moaned. "This isn't going to take long....oh..."

Vaughn smirked. "Wanna come on me?"

Mark yelped and his eyes widened, and he stroked frenetically at himself, the seductive offer pushing him to the brink. "Oh!" Vaughn could tell what was happening, so he quickly moved closer, just in time for Mark to explode all over his stomach. "Oh...oh, Vaughn..." he moaned, pulling the last drops out of himself, and then collapsing down weakly beside him.

After a few moments, Vaughn cleared his throat. "You gonna clean this up?" he teased, motioning at his sticky stomach. Mark giggled and hurried to get a handful of tissues, then wiped up Vaughn's abdomen, all the while gazing into his eyes. "You're a cute little thing," Vaughn commented, reaching out and pulling the boy in close for a deep kiss. Mark murmured softly, relaxing into the kiss; then the two of them got under the covers and fell asleep.

Vaughn awoke slightly confused early Saturday morning. It was still pitch black outside, but Mark was not in bed. His brain slowly became aware that something was wrong, and he could just faintly hear the sounds of someone getting sick. He got up to investigate, and his heart about stopped when he found Mark curled up in a ball on the bathrug. He stepped forward quickly and stooped to the little man. "Mark! What's wrong?"

Mark cracked his eyes open a little. His face looked pale. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I just keep getting sick over and over. I - oh!" He sat up like a bolt, pushing Vaughn away, then hugged the toilet. "Please...go..." he struggled to say in a choked voice. "I don't want you...to see..." Vaughn stepped out, but his heart about broke as he heard Mark vomiting. He waited until he heard the toilet flush, then opened the door again to see Mark barely standing at the sink, washing his mouth out. He looked up at him with sad, bleary eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry."

Vaughn stepped forward cautiously, and took the little blonde carefully in his arms. "Don't be sorry," he chided him. In truth, sickness - especially anything involving vomiting - were absolutely revolting to him, and he avoided anyone who was sick like the plague. But he found that when it was his little darling that was sick, he suddenly didn't feel that way. "I think we should take you to the hospital."

Mark made a little yelp. "The hospital? No! I don't -" He broke off again, wriggling frantically out of Vaughn's arms, then turned back to the sink and threw up in it. Vaughn winced, but nodded.

"Yep, you need to go to the hospital." Mark weakly protested, but he was no match for Vaughn, who dressed himself, then Mark, and wrapped him up in a blanket and carried him like a child down the stairs to the ground floor. They walked up the dark road, Mark burying his face in Vaughn's chest and feeling deeply ashamed. He apologizing repeatedly, only to be shushed by Vaughn.

Mark struggled in Vaughn's arms suddenly. "Put me down," he said, sounding strained. "I need to - " Vaughn set him down as quickly and carefully as he could, and Mark immediately scrambled to the edge of the sidewalk and began to heave. "Ugh," he said a few moments later. "There isn't anything left to come out, but I just keep feeling like I have to. And my stomach hurts so bad, it feels like I'm being stabbed." He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, this is so embarrassing..." he moaned, but Vaughn just clucked his tongue and gathered him up again, and continued on to the small hospital in their section of the city.

By the time they had gotten there, Vaughn was feeling a little panicked, because although Mark was no longer retching; he had become very pale, his eyes had closed, his breathing was labored, and he had not spoken in some time. Vaughn stomped up to the front desk. "He's sick!" he announced. The bored looking receptionist directed him to the emergency room, and Vaughn stalked off, his cowboy boots clicking a fierce rhythm on the cold tile, echoing through the silent hospital.

They reached the emergency room, and luckily, there were no other patients waiting to be seen. A nurse helped Vaughn put Mark on a gurney, then began to ask questions of Vaughn in order to figure out what was wrong with Mark. The cowboy soon became impatient. "Look, he's sick! Just help him!" he demanded, his voice sounding a little worn.

They wheeled him into a room, where the nurse urged Vaughn to help her undress the boy. Mark was like a rag doll, flopping around lifelessly as they removed his clothing, and Vaughn felt like his heart was being torn apart. His emotions changed and he actually blushed a bit when they uncovered Mark's chest and his pierced nipples were revealed, and then again when his underwear went and the tattoo, the sign of Vaughn's ownership, was briefly visible. But the nurse had seen it all, and didn't even spare a second looking at these things, but instead quickly hooked him up to an IV. "What's that?" Vaughn grunted, looking worried.

"It's to give him fluids. That's why he looks so bad right now - he's severely dehydrated." She bustled out, and Vaughn hovered over Mark's bed, feeling anxious. He petted Mark's head gently, shuddering when he felt how clammy the boy's skin was.

"Come on, little darlin'," he said in a soft voice. "Open up your eyes for me," he begged. He felt like he needed to see Mark's big green eyes to calm himself down.

Mark reacted, slowly fluttering open his eyes. "Vaughn," he murmured, then immediately closed them and went back to sleep.

A kindly looking elderly doctor came in a few minutes later, reading a thin chart. "Let's see here," he murmured to himself, then approached Mark and began to examine him. "He eat anything strange last night?"

Vaughn ran a nervous hand through his silver hair. "No. Spaghetti. I ate everything that he did, and I'm not sick." The doctor murmured, then continued to appraise Mark.

He slowly turned to Vaughn, and removed his glasses, wiping them. "Does he have any contact with children?"

"No. He works in a coffee shop," Vaughn grunted.

"I see. Does he perform anilingus on you?"

Vaughn about exploded with outrage. "What the fuck business is that of yours?" he roared.

The little old doctor held up his hands in peace. "Now, calm down. I think the boy has a gastrointestinal illness that could be caused by E coli. It can come from poorly prepared food, from improper handwashing while caring for infants, or from anal to oral contact. I'm just trying to figure out exactly what is wrong with him, so that I can treat him."

Vaughn simmered down. "Oh," he said, feeling a little foolish. He averted his eyes. "Well then, yes."

"Has he done it recently?"

"Last night," Vaughn said, almost in a whisper.

The doctor nodded, picking up the chart and scritching some words on it quickly. "Okay, I'll send the nurse in to take some samples for testing. We should have him on the correct antibiotic shortly." He shuffled out of the room, then Vaughn approached Mark's bed and sat in the hard plastic chair next to it. He reached under the sheets and found Mark's hand, squeezing it briefly. Mark's eyes fluttered open.

"Vaughn?"

"I'm right here."

"Were you just yelling?" he murmured sleepily.

"No," Vaughn lied. "You're dreaming. Just go back to sleep." In truth, he was deeply upset that this sickness could have been his fault. The nurse came in and explained that she was taking a few blood samples for the lab. Mark was so out of it that he didn't even flinch as she poked his arm to take his blood. She then produced another syringe and injected a clear substance into his IV, explaining that it was Mepergan, a combination narcotic and anti-emetic.

"It might make him a little confused, I'll just warn you," she cautioned. "The Demerol in it is great stuff, but some people don't react that well to it."

Mark slept while they worked out where his room was to be. A little while later, the nurse wheeled Mark's bed down the hall, then handed it off to the porter. "Where's this one going?" the porter asked.

"Room 414. Pediatrics."

Mark had woken up from the jostling of the bed, and he moaned. "Pediatrics? But I'm not a kid!" he protested. The narcotic was beginning to set in, and his tongue was a little loose. His eyes had a strange look to them. "Tell them, Vaughn. Tell them how we have sex." The porter hid a smile, but he was used to the strange things that sick people said, so it didn't affect him too much.

"I ain't telling them that," Vaughn grunted.

"But I'm 19 years old!" Mark wailed pitifully. "They can't put me with the babies!" He started to cry a little. Vaughn leaned down and murmured something in his ear that the porter could not hear, but which got a definite reaction out of Mark.

"You wouldn't really spank me while I'm sick, would you?" Mark wailed loudly. "I don't want to be spanked!" He broke down into full on sobbing. Vaughn blushed and sighed, putting a hand to his aching head.

"Look, dude," the porter said. "They put adults in Peds sometime. It's no big deal. There's a little old lady in there right now. It has more to do with the size that you are."

Mark abruptly stopped crying and eyed the porter's arm, which was right near his face. "Oh, you have a tattoo! I have one too. Look." Before anyone could stop him, he had moved the bedsheet to the side and lifted his hospital gown, exposing not only his tattoo, but his genitals.

Vaughn reached out swiftly and covered Mark back up. "Whoa, you little slut! Don't show the world!"

Mark burst into tears again. "You're so mean to me," he cried. "And you always call me a slut - you're the slut! You're the one that let Will touch your dick and lick your ass the other day!" Vaughn's face got very red, as Mark covered his face with his hands and sobbed helplessly. "I don't ever let anyone else touch me," he wailed.

Vaughn leaned down to him as they got on the elevator. "Hey. That was just a thing. And I don't think you're a slut, I was just kidding." He stroked the side of Mark's face soothingly. "Now calm down."

"You calm down!" Mark retorted childishly. He rolled on his side, away from Vaughn, and cried into his pillow. "I hate you," he sobbed. Vaughn frowned, the words cutting him to the bone, despite knowing that Mark didn't really mean them.

The porter gave a low whistle. "They give him Demerol?"

"Yeah," Vaughn grunted, folding his arms.

"Then don't worry about it. I see this all the time. People say and do nutty crap when they're on it. I had a girl last week kick her dad in the mouth and knock two of his teeth out! Sweet little girl too. So, at least he's not violent."

"Don't give him ideas," Vaughn said, sighing heavily. They reached the unit, and Mark was put into a room wallpapered with balloons and other childish motifs. He started to sob again, but Vaughn quickly shushed him. "That's enough of that," he said firmly. "Nobody thinks you're a baby, all right?" Mark nodded, then rolled on his other side and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, Vaughn was not there, and he was confused for a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the room. He looked down at the IV in his arm, following the tubing up to the bag of liquid that hung above his bed. "Lactated Ringers," he read out loud. "I wonder what that's supposed to be?" He puzzled over it for a while, then gave up, just as a portly nurse waddled in. "Tylenol time!" she announced, and Mark tried to sit up a little, thinking he was going to have to swallow some medicine. Instead, the woman put her hammy hands on his hips, turning him sideways.

"H-hey..." Mark said weakly. In a flash, the woman had the covers down and Mark's gown up, and she pushed a suppository up his rectum. "Oh!" Mark cried out.

The fat nurse grinned and set him right again. "Oh, you were easy. Most guys resist that, and it's such a struggle." Vaughn walked in just then, holding a cup of coffee, and her brain made the correct assumptions. "Oh, I see. Eh heh..." She carefully kept a professional expression on her face, and waddled back out of the room as quickly as she could manage. She suddenly wished that all patients she had to give suppositories to got it in the ass regularly. It would make her job so much easier!

Vaughn glanced after her. "What was that about?"

Mark reached around his backside gingerly. "She just came in and put something up my butt." Vaughn snorted, sipping his coffee. The nurse came back in a while later, checking on the bag of fluids. Mark tugged at her scrub jacket sleeve. "What's a lactated ringer?" he whispered.

The nurse laughed. "I have absolutely no idea. It's just what they call the stuff. It's fluid to rehydrate you, and it's formulated with all kinds of electrolytes."

"Oh. Can I have something to drink? I'm so thirsty."

"Can't do that, honey. The doctor is keeping an eye on you in case you need surgery. There's an off chance that your appendix might have ruptured. And if you do have to have surgery, you can't have eaten or drank anything. Sorry," she said, and waddled away. As soon as she was gone, Mark's eyes slid over to Vaughn, who knew just what he wanted, and looked away.

"Let me have a sip of water," Mark begged.

"No. They said you can't drink anything."

"But I'm sooo thirsty," he pleaded in a piteous voice. "Just a teeny, tiny sip." He looked up at Vaughn with those big green eyes, and Vaughn cursed quietly.

"Fine," he grunted, giving in. He got a cup and filled it with just a couple ounces of water, then handed it to Mark, who drank it down eagerly.

Mark sighed and laid back on the pillow. "That's better." He gazed up at Vaughn, adoration in his eyes. "You're so good to me. I love you so much."

Vaughn arched an eyebrow as he took the empty cup away. "Oh? I thought you hated me."

Mark stared up at him with innocent, confused eyes. "I don't hate you! Why would you think that?"

Vaughn folded his arms, turning away a little. Despite his rough persona, he was capable of getting his feelings hurt. "You said so. On the way up here."

Mark gasped. "What? No!" He looked around the room. "How did I get here, anyway? I don't remember..." His eyes welled up with tears. "I'm so confused." He started to shake a little. Vaughn turned around quickly, leaning over the bed and embracing the adorably frightened boy.

"Shhh...it's okay. You were all hopped up on drugs and you said a bunch of weird stuff. Don't worry about it." He kissed Mark on his temple. "Don't cry, okay?" Mark nodded, calming down, and then he closed his eyes to try and fall asleep. Vaughn pressed a kiss to the top of his little blonde head and whispered, "I love you," very quietly. Mark's breathing signaled that he had fallen asleep, so Vaughn pulled back and sat in the chair beside his bed, trying to get comfortable enough to take a nap.

They both slept for some time, until the nurse came in to check on Mark. She took his vital signs, and then made a few notes in his chart. "I think you're going to be all right, honey. The doctor's coming in to see you in a few minutes, and he'll let you know if you can go home or not."

The doctor did indeed come in the room not long after. "Well, you sure look better," he commented. "You were as limp as a rag and pale as a ghost when you came in." Vaughn shuddered a little at the memory as the doctor continued to check Mark out thoroughly. He hung his stethoscope back around his neck and nodded. "You're going to be fine. It's not your appendix. Looks like a minor upper gastrointestinal bug." He looked at Vaughn and cleared his throat, and Vaughn hung his head a little, feeling guilty. "There's still the possibility that it was something he ate, maybe for lunch yesterday; but, to be on the safe side, you should refrain from risky behaviors from now on." Vaughn nodded grimly, averting his eyes away from Mark's puzzled face.

After the doctor left the room, Mark spoke up. "What was he talking about?"

Vaughn hesitated, but finally gave a deep sigh and told him. "The doctor said you shouldn't lick my ass no more," he grunted, rolling his eyes. Mark broke out into giggles, which erupted into full blown laughter.

When he finally caught his breath, he spoke. "Oh, my. That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time. So, is that what made me sick?"

"Maybe."

Mark frowned. "Stupid Will," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that?"

Mark blushed and shook his head frantically. "Oh, nothing!" The Demerol had worn off, and he was back to his shy, obedient self.

Vaughn smirked. "Better tell me."

Mark hemmed and hawed. "Well...it's just that I only did that because Will did it to you, and I didn't want you to like him more than me."

Vaughn chuckled. "You're so silly. Now how could I like him more than you?" He stood up and advanced to Mark's bed, giving him a quick kiss. "I love you. I don't care one whit for him. You're my little darlin'."

Mark flushed happily. "I know...I was just being stupid." The nurse came in with his discharge papers to sign and some bottles of medicine to take home. Mark accepted them, then redressed and prepared to leave with Vaughn. He looked out the window as they left the room, seeing that the sun was setting outside.

"Wow, a whole day gone," Mark commented. "Oh! Are you going to get in trouble for missing work?"

"Naw. I called them while you were asleep. Everything's all right." Mark nodded happily, then surreptitiously slipped his hand inside of Vaughn's, who smirked a little. Mark smiled up at him lovingly as they waited for the elevator.

When the doors opened, the porter that had brought them up was on it. He looked at Mark's happy expression, and at their clasped hands. "Demerol must have worn off," he said briefly, chuckling before walking off.

Mark just stared after him, not recognizing him. "Do you know that guy?"

Vaughn smirked. "I'll tell you all about it on the way home."

Ending Author's Note: This is sort of based on when I went in the hospital the week after I graduated college. I was teaching children's exercise classes at the time, and I was one of the many victims of the Shigella epidemic that spread through the daycares that month. Only I didn't know there was an epidemic; I just woke up in terrible pain and vomiting. My husband was already at work, so I called my mom, who was a lab tech at a nearby doctor's office, and she came over to check me out. She declared that I had appendicitis, and rushed me to the hospital. My father called my husband at work, and he showed up in the ER, looking as stricken as I imagined Vaughn to be. It turned out to be Shigella, but I had to spend the night for observation. They put me on the Peds unit, and I pitched almost as big of a fit as Mark did. "I'm not a kid! I'm 22! I'm married! I just got my Bachelors!" (But it's true, they sometimes put small adults on Peds, and I'm 5'2", about 110.) But it still felt insulting! Also, Lactated Ringers are real. I worked in the hospital pharmacy for two years, and handed out who knows how many bags of the stuff, but I never got a straight answer on what the name means. Even the pharmacists didn't know. Huh! Oh yes, and my sister punched my dad in the mouth when she was hopped up on Demerol once. Nice. Sorry to gross anyone out with this chapter, but the idea for it has been burning in my head all day, and I just had to write it. You can get very sick from licking ass, which is why I rarely have my guys do it, except for in the shower when it's nice and clean. So this is a public service announcement, y'all. Don't lick dirty ass, or you might get the heaves. The more you know! Ha ha ha.