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The following story contains erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now.
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A shrill ring jolted Matthew Trogdon from a sound sleep. With a moan, he reached out and blindly grabbed for the phone in an effort to silence the nerve-grating racket. It rang four more times before he finally located it. He pushed the talk button, brought it to his ear, and groggily said, "Hello."
"Trog, it's me."
There was only one person in the world who called him by an abbreviated version of his last name, his best friend, Rex Phillips. "Rex? What the hell?" Matthew said as he raised his head off his pillow and looked at the illuminated readout on his bedside clock. It was only noon. He groaned. "Dammit Rex, I was asleep."
"Trog, I'm sorry for waking you, but I really need to see you. Can I come over?" Rex asked, hesitantly.
Concern for his friend pierced his sleep-induced haze. He immediately sat straight up in his bed and asked in a rush of words, "Rex, what's wrong? Is everything okay? You're not hurt are you?"
"No, it's nothing like that. I just have a little problem that I need to talk to you about," Rex was quick to assure him.
Relief flooded Matthew. The thought that Rex had been hurt had scared him more than he wanted to admit. Rex was more than his best friend; the other man was the love of his life. Yeah, that's right, he was secretly in love with his best friend, and he had been since they'd first met. Could he be any more pathetic? Matthew knew that nothing could ever come from it because Rex was as straight as an arrow, as could be seen from the seemingly never-ending parade of women that went in and out of his bedroom. Yet, he still mooned after his best friend like a love-struck teenager.
Shaking himself from his reverie, he replied, "Rex, if you're not hurt, can't this wait till tomorrow? I just got off a forty-eight hour shift at the hospital, the last eighteen of which were spent piecing back together a teenaged boy who was hit by drunk driver who had been celebrating New Year's Eve, and I'm exhausted. I'd only just fallen asleep when you called."
"I know, Trog. I said I was sorry, but I really need to see you. You're my best friend, and you've always been there for me," Rex wheedled. "Besides, this is kind of a medical problem, and don't you doctors take some sort of Hippopotamus oath where you swore to take care of the sick?" Rex questioned with slight humor in his voice.
"It's the Hippocratic Oath, you idiot," Matthew said with a chuckle. Rex always had the ability to make him laugh. It was one of the things he loved most about the other man. "I'm a trauma surgeon remember? Have you been shot, stabbed, or been in a car accident? If not, I can't help you," Matthew stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Anyway, I thought Helen Robbins was your primary care physician. Can't you go see her tomorrow?"
"I could, but...I just wouldn't feel comfortable discussing this with her. It's kind of embarrassing," Rex replied sheepishly.
Matthew sighed loudly. He might as well go ahead and give in, because he would eventually anyway. He'd never been able to refuse Rex anything. "Okay, come on over, but this had better be good," he said with a slight growl in his voice. After all, he didn't want the other man to think he was too much of a push over, even though he really was.
"Thanks, buddy," Rex stated with relief. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"I'll see you then," Matthew replied, and then hung up the phone.
Emitting a loud groan, he tossed back the covers and hauled himself out of bed. He yawned broadly and stretched his body to loosen the kinks in his muscles. Running his fingers through the thick, dark blond hairs on his chest, he scratched himself briefly, and then padded naked over to his closet to retrieve his robe. After slipping it on and tying it, he walked to his kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He was going to need to introduce some caffeine into his system since he had a feeling it was going to be a while before he would be able to get back to sleep.
As he sat down at his kitchen table to wait for the coffee to brew, his mind began to replay his telephone conversation with Rex. He was starting to worry a little. Rex knew his work schedule, and would have never awakened him if it weren't important. His best friend had sounded intense on the phone, and Matthew hoped the problem wasn't too serious. He loved Rex so much that when his friend was in pain, whether physical or emotional, he was in pain as well.
He'd first met Rex their freshman year in college when they had been assigned as roommates, and the other man had very quickly, though unknowingly, laid claim to Matthew's soul. From the moment they'd first met they were best friends and they became inseparable. Rex had said earlier that Matthew had always been there for him, helping him to solve his problems, but the truth was that Rex had been there just as many times for him. They had always been there for each other, and Matthew hoped they always were.
When he'd finally admitted to himself and to the world that he was gay, he'd been deathly afraid that it would bring about an end to their friendship, but he'd been wrong. Rex had simply hugged him, and then informed him that it didn't matter who he slept with as long as they remained friends. Even though Rex had accepted his homosexuality, he knew that the other man would never return his feelings. He'd long ago reconciled himself to the fact that he and Rex would never be anything more than best friends.
Not that he was complaining; Rex was the best friend he could ever ask for. Six months ago when he'd caught Victor, the man he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with, fucking another man in their bed, he'd fallen apart. Rex had been there to pick up the pieces. He'd even stayed with him at night when the pain was so great he'd thought he'd die. Rex had slept with him holding him secure in his arms.
After the coffee finished brewing, he poured himself a large cup and then walked into the living room and sat on his loveseat just as Rex let himself in.
Rex closed the door behind him and then looked at Matthew, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Trog, thanks for letting me come over. I really need to talk to you about this. I just couldn't take it any more. I've been in denial, but I've recently come to the conclusion that there's something to this," he said, desperation in his voice.
Fear gripped Matthew's heart and squeezed. Oh God! Could there be something seriously wrong with Rex? He could feel panic starting to rise within him. What would he do if something happened to Rex? Damn! He had to stop this right now. He was a professional, and he had to start acting like one. Rex was depending on him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, looked his best friend straight in the eye, and then with as much calm as he could muster, said, "Rex, sit down and tell me what's wrong."
Rex plopped down on the loveseat next to Matthew and sighed loudly. "Well, it's like this. I haven't been getting any action lately."
"Action?" Matthew asked, perplexed. "You know,
