The Amnesiac

This story was written before Christmas, right after I wrote Desire. I am just now getting around to posting it. I hope ou guys enjoy Devin and Patrick. They were fun to write.

Note: This is a fictional story with fictional characters. Any similarities to a real life situation and/or real people is purely coincidental. Since I have no editor (I haven't gotten around to looking for one yet), I will apologize now for any and all mistakes in spelling and puncuation, and any other mistakes I may have made.

Enjoy,

Soulless

*****

The Amnesiac

Chapter One

Laughter. That was the first thing he heard when he woke up. Then a woman's voice. He opened his eyes, but there was nobody in the room with him. All he could see were white walls, machines, a chair, two doors, and a television. He turned his attention back to the TV, where a woman was sitting in a red chair, talking to another woman sitting in a matching red chair. The first woman was really skinny with short blond hair, and she dressed kinda boyishly.... He vaguely recognized her. Ah well. It'll come to him sooner or later. Now, time ti get up. He had to use the restroom. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but for some reason it was much harder than it should be. His legs felt like lead. Odd. He tried to get up, but something was tugging on his arm. Frowning, he turned to see what it was. His brows furrowed as he saw an IV being held down by a strip of white medical tape. Why the hell did he have an IV in his arm? That must mean he was in a hospital, but he didn't remember coming here. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember anything. He concentrated, trying to think of his parents' names. He only succeeded in giving himself a small headache. Wait. If he couldn't remember who his parents were-

"My name is...." He frowned, feeling a spark of panic. "My name is....." Okay, the panic was now snaking it's way through him. "My name is.. God damned it! What is my fucking name?!" He slammed his fist down onto the bed, but given his weakened state, it didn't give much of an impact. He heard a voice right outside the door.

"I'm just going to check on Patrick before I leave, Patsy."

The door opened and a young man stepped in. At first, he didn't realize he he was sitting up in bed, ready to stand up. He closed the door, then turned around and he got a good look at the man's face. Mid-to-late twenties, six feet five inches tall, clean shaven, strong jaw, cornflower blue eyes, long lashes, and elbow-length hair in a single braid. He was breathtaking. The man seemed frozen, as if shocked to see him sitting there. Then he jolted, spun back around, yanked the door open, and disappeared. Less than a minute later, he returned with a smaller, mousy-looking woman.

"Praise the Lord. He's awake!" said the mousy woman.

"I told you I wasn't imaging it, Patsy." The man had a deep voice, no accent he could detect.

"So you were right. I'll inform the doctors, Dev," the woman -Patsy- said, then she turned and left.

"Hey Patrick. It's great to finally see you awake. I've been your nurse since you got here. My name is Devin. Do you need anything?"

"Who is 'Patrick'?" he asked.

Devin frowned, brows furrowing. "You are. You are Patrick C. Henley, twenty-five years old."

"Patrick C. Henley. I'm twenty-five?"

"Yes, you are. You were born December 9th, 1985."

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

"You are hooked up to a catheter; you don't need to move. Just let it flow."

Patrick glared at Devin. "How long have I been in a coma? I am assuming that's what happened to me, right?"

"Uh, right. You've been in a coma for five years."

"Five years? Then do me the courtesy of letting me use the damned bathroom. Please." He bit out the last part.

"I could get in trouble for this, so I'll have to supervise. You haven't put any weight on your legs in five years, Patrick. They're next to useless at the moment."

"Then supervise. I just want to use a damned toilet."

After only a moment's hesitation, Devin unhooked Patrick from the catheter and helped him stand up. He'd been right; Patrick couldn't really walk. He leaned heavily on Devin, and it took them a few minutes to reach the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom, Devin shut the door. Patrick managed to stand up at the toilet for about five seconds, then started falling forward. He caught himself with his hands against the wall.

When Devin started forward to help, Patrick said, "If I stand, can you..... help with the... rest?" His face flamed bright red.

"We aren't really supposed to-"

"Please," Patrick said quietly.

Devin nodded and lifted the hospital gown out of the way with his left hand. With his right hand, he grabbed Patrick's cock and aimed it at the toilet. A second later, a stream of piss shot into the toilet bowl. Relief felt good. When he was done, Devin pulled his hand away.

"You have to shake it to get the last drops out. I can't stand the thought of having even a drop of piss run down my legs."

Devin gritted his teeth and grabbed Patrick's cock again. As he gently shook it, his hand slid up and down the length. Patrick's eyes fluttered closed, his heart racing. As Devin continued gently shaking, Patrick's cock began to harden. His knees buckled, and Devin caught him. Neither man said anything as they made their way back to the bed. Patrick was barely settled when the door opened and an older man in a white lab coat walked in.

"Devin. Patsy said you'd probably still be here."

"Yes, Doctor Dachev. Would you like me to leave?"

"I think that would be best."

As Devin turned to leave, Patrick felt a moment of panic. Devin was the only person here who Patrick even remotely knew. And there seemed to be something..... Something almost familiar about the man. If he stayed, he might regain his memories. He had to. Right now, Devin was his only link to his identity.

"Please don't go. I want you to stay."

In a gentle voice, Devin said, "Dr. Dachev has asked me to go. He is my superior, and I must respect his wishes. You are in good hands." He opened the door, but got a foot outside the door when Patrick started struggling.

"No! I want you to stay. I won't talk to him unless you're here." Patrick started struggling to get off the bed.

"Patrick, stop. You will be fine with him."

"Dev, if he feels this strongly about you being here, perhaps you should stay."

"But-"

"If he's your superior, why aren't you closing the door and coming back inside?"

With a sigh, Devin came back into the room, shutting the door behind him. Dr. Dachev had the small rolling stool, so he took the reclining chair next to the bed. Patrick immediately relaxed, even settled back into the bed. His limbs felt heavy again, and he felt tired. Exhausted, really. Had he really lain in this hospital bed for five years?

"....tests, of course."

Patrick jolted upright, focusing on what the doctor was saying.

"Then, if everything checks out all right, you'll be released. I'd like to see for follow-up visits every other week for three months, though, just in case."

"Tests? What tests?"

"We'll need to examine your head, of course. We'll get a CAT scan of your head, maybe a few x-rays to make sure your wounds look okay, though I'd imagine this has already been done. After all, you've been here five years."

"So I've heard. What year is it?"

"2010. We have our very first black president; President Obama. The Vice President is Biden, I believe, though to be honest, other than the current president, I don't follow politics. I avoid them, actually."

"What is today's date?"

"December 12th, 2010. It is one in he morning."

"Ah. Dev here tells me my name is Patrick C. Henley. That true?"

The doctor paused, eyes boring into Patrick, making him want to squirm. "You... don't know who you are?"

"No. I don't remember anything or anybody."

"Ah. I see. So that's why.."

"That's why what?"

"I was wondering why you were clinging to young Devin here instead of demanding to know where your family is."

"I have a family?"

"We haven't found any. Your unconscious body was found in a park by some late-night jogger."

Patrick turned to face Devin. "Do you know all the details?"

"I know as much as Dr. Dachev knows. Why?"

"Can you tell me all this? After he leaves?"

The doctor chuckled. "I'll take my leave now. Dev, I know you were just stopping by to visit Patrick before you left for the night, but perhaps you could stay here a little longer?"

"Certainly."

"Thank God he's gone," Patrick said sleepily.

"I'll come back tomorrow and tell you what you want to know. For now, though, you look exhausted. You should sleep."

"But I don't want to-"

"Sleep, Patrick. This can wait."

"I don't want to be alone anymore.." he whispered.

With an almost imperceptible sigh, Devin sat up in his seat. "Would you like me to stay here with you tonight?"

Patrick nodded, eyes a little too wide, his heart starting to race. Why was he afraid to sleep? Nothing could hurt him in his sleep. He'd give it a shot right now. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off into dreamland...

A flash of cold blue eyes, full of malice, a usually handsome face contorted with rage. The sound of leather smacking bare flesh. The sounds of quiet sobs. No, no. He didn't

want

to let Daddy touch him. He didn't

want

to lick Daddy's penis. It was icky. Momma said never let an adult touch you below your belly button, even your parents. Momma would say no. Momma would save him. The cracks of hard, unforgiving leather on tender flesh got louder, faster. Daddy was shouting. Five-year-old Patrick screamed as his daddy's leather belt cut into the flesh of his back. It hurt. It hurt so much. Why, Daddy, why? Was he a bad boy? Where's Momma? Another scream as Daddy shoved him up against the wall hard. Daddy shoved him to his knees and turned him around, and Daddy was naked. He shoved Patrick's head down to his penis. A door in another room opened. Momma called out and Daddy stopped shoving him at his penis. His eyes look panicked, but he growled at him to stay put as he moved away. Daddy threw on his clothes and met Momma in the hall. Patrick got up, moving toward the door, but then he stopped. He didn't want Momma to see his hurts, so he yanked on his shirt, then ran through the door. He ran into Momma's legs, clinging to them. Safe. Momma is safe. Daddy won't do anything with Momma here. Momma loved him. He clung tighter to Momma, but she vanished. He screamed, because Daddy had him again. Daddy was shaking him hard, telling him to wake up. Wake up? That didn't make sense. Daddy didn't wake him up. The shaking turned more violent, and the voice telling him to wake up changed. Not Daddy. Not Daddy?

Patrick jolted awake, panting, heart racing. Sweat covered every inch of him. He shivered as he struggled to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind. Slowly, he became aware of a strong, warm arm wrapped around his back, pulling him into a hard, strong body. He tensed. Was he still dreaming? No, he was awake. His dream had been violent. He felt tender fingers playing through his hair. Slowly, his heart rate slowed down and his breathing became steadier.

"It's okay. You're okay. Nothing here can hurt you. You're okay," a voice was saying over and over into his ear. The vibrations from the voice resonated down his neck, making him shiver. He knew this voice. He had a feeling he should know it very well. He shifted onto his other side so that he faced the person the voice belonged to. Patrick's eyes widened when he saw Devin there.

"De-Devin?"

"You're okay, Patrick. It was just a dream." Devin looked into Patrick's eyes, then leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead.

Patrick smiled sleepily, scooted closer, hesitated. Devin gently pulled him even closer, and Patrick smiled, rested his left ear on Devin's chest, his arm flung over Devin's lower stomach. He felt Devin's strong, gentle arms go around him, and he fell back asleep listening to the strong beat of his heart. This time, he slept peacefully until morning. Well, almost peacefully. He was woken up every few hours so a nurse could take his vitals.

*****

He was never gonna live this down, he just knew it. Devin sighed as yet another colleague sent him a "covert" glance. He knew he shouldn't have climbed into that hospital bed with Patrick last night, but really, what else could he have done? Devin had been dozing on the recliner when he had heard Patrick whimpering. He would have just left the guy had he not started tossing and turning. Devin had climbed onto the bed to hold him still, but something about the pitiful noises Patrick had been making struck him as not quite right. I mean, there's nightmares, and then there's

nightmares

. One's just your imagination, and the other is from memories. Memories make up the worst nightmares.

Devin sighed, no closer to figuring out why he had felt so compelled to let the man sleep on him now than an hour ago. He took a sip of his cooling coffee, replaying the scene from the night before, after the nightmare episode. Another nurse had come in about an hour later to check Patrick's vitals. Of course, Devin had still been in the bed with him, and when he'd tried to get up, the guy had pleaded with him to stay. In front of the other nurse. Now there's probably a rumor going around that he slept with a patient. He hoped like hell he didn't get fired for misconduct.

Ah, forget this. He finished the last few sips of his tepid coffee, then turned and went back inside Patrick's room. He threw the coffee cup in the trash. Patrick was sipping his beef broth. He was on a liquid diet until the doctor gives the okay for more solid food, which probably won't be for a while, considering Patrick's stomach hadn't had to hold anything for five years. He'd been fed by IV's.

Devin half sat, half fell down into the recliner. He looked up at Patrick. "You were in a very bad car accident."

Patrick stopped sipping his broth, set it down, and gave Devin his full attention.

"The roads were icy that night. You'd just turned twenty that very night. From the looks of your car, somebody had rammed into the side of your car. You slid off the road, through a guardrail and down the embankment. The car flipped over an overgrown tree root and rolled down the last few feet of the hill, clipping trees. It landed on it's side; the drivers' side. You were trapped, unconscious, in the car for almost twenty-four hours."

"That's how I ended up here?"

"Yes. The police gave us your information for the admittance paperwork. You had your driver's license and proof of insurance, which is good. What's even better is that you had a medical insurance card. All your medical bills have been paid. But it's a good thing you woke up yesterday."

"Why? I can't remem-"

Patrick stopped, his gray eyes clouding over. He tilted his head, a soft smile forming his angelic face into something more, something beautiful. He seemed happy in that instant. Content. It was a beautiful sight. Then he started humming. Devin wasn't familiar with the tune.

"Patrick?"

No answer.

"Patrick."

Devin was starting to get worried.

"Patrick!"

Patrick jolted from the memory. He smiled. "I saw something. She was beautiful, like an angel. She sang to me her favorite song."

"What was her favorite song?"

"Momma's favorite song was always The Greatest Love of All by Whitney Houston,"

"You remembered your mom?" Devin asked.

"Yeah. She was putting me to bed. God, I must have been four or five years old. I begged her to sing to me."

"Do you remember anything else? Your dad, a pet, anything?"

"No. I remembered Momma always called me 'baby' or "Patty." He chuckled. "It used to drive Dad nuts. He'd go ballistic. Sometimes he'd yell... throw things... I remember he raised his hand to me once, and Momma got in his face."

A look of confusion crossed Patrick's face. Devin couldn't stand to see Patrick looking so lost. He got up from the chair and went to him. He sat down next to him on the bed and he scooted over to make room. Devin's arm went around Patrick's back, and he pulled him close. Patrick leaned into him, laying his head on Devin's shoulder. The position felt so natural that Devin rested his cheek on Patrick's head. His fingertips slowly and gently trailed up and down Patrick's arm.

"Mmm. That feels good.." Patrick murmured.

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

"What about this?"

When Devin reached under the standard-issue white hospital blanket, he found Patrick's thigh bare. He hesitated only a second, then he was gently slowly caressing Patrick's bare thigh, starting from almost the hip and ending almost to the knee. Patrick shivered, and Devin smiled, still caressing up and down his thigh.

"Y-yeah."

"And this?" Devin whispered into his ear, making him shiver again.

His fingertips stroked down to his knee again, but instead of going straight back up, Devin slid his fingertips over to Patrick's inner thigh, then trailed back up, still feather-light, but much slower. Patrick made a low sound in his throat as his fingers inched their way higher. When he was high enough, his knuckles gently brushed against the head of Patrick's cock. Patrick hissed out a breath. Dev moved his hand again. This time, he very gently caressed Patrick's cock with his nails, from the hole in the tip all the way down to the base. Patrick shuddered at the touch, his cock hardening.

"Y-yeah. That feels g-good, too."

"You're flustered. How cute." Devin swirled his tongue around Patrick's ear as he moved his caressing nails to the underside of his cock. Patrick's hips jerked up, and he moaned. Devin nipped Patrick's ear as his hand finally went around his dick, squeezing lightly. Then he moved his hand up, still squeezing, and back down. He pumped Patrick's cock, listening as his breathing quickened. Patrick's hips started to move up and down, thrusting his cock into Devin's hand.

"So eager. It's sexy," Devin said into Patrick's ear. "But if I am going to let you finish, it has to be in my mouth."

He felt Patrick tense, but he only nodded. Perfect. Devin slid down Patrick's body and moved his hospital gown out of the way. It occurred to him that he shouldn't be doing this. He could get in a lot of trouble and lose his nursing license. He shoved those thoughts aside at the sight of Patrick's rock-hard cock. It was huge and wide. Much bigger than what he was used to. He loved trying new things, and now he'd get to see how well he could deep-throat.

He licked the weeping head, tasting the faintly salty precum. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted. He eased his mouth over the bulbous head, then down the shaft. The shaft was wide enough to force his mouth open wide enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Devin's teeth gently scraped Patrick's hot skin, and his tongue danced around after the teeth. Devin's gag reflex kicked in about two inches from the base. He eased back up just enough to prevent the gag reflex and started sucking, hard and fast. Patrick moaned and squirmed, hips rising off the bed, trying to push more of him into Devin's mouth. Devin pushed Patrick's hips back down and held them still as he continued sucking hard and fast. While sucking, he moved his head up and down. Each time his head went up, it was only about two inches. Patrick moaned, threading his fingers through Devin's hair.

"F-faster.."

Devin kept the same pace, but looked up into Patrick's eyes.

"Faster! Harder!"

At the more firm tone, Devin complied. He sucked harder and faster. A minute later, Devin was rewarded handsomely when Patrick cried out, his hips jerking up as he came. Devin swallowed each spurt of cum happily, enjoying the taste. He continued sucking, much slower and gentler, though. He wanted every last drop. He moved up the length of Patrick's cock and began gently sucking just the head.