Lincoln's Pride Ch. 02

I went to shower and found a small, tight white t-shirt, a pink jockstrap, and some short white soccer shorts. I pulled them on, feeling a little on display as the shorts hugged my ass. Looking in the mirror, I could make out a hint of the pink straps and pouch showing through the white shorts.

He had on a brown tank top that matched his skin color and showed off his chest. It was tucked into small white shorts that showed a hint of a black jockstrap. We pulled on matching pairs of new nikes and he tucked the card key to the room into a small pocket in the shorts. I grabbed my backpack, and he gave me an odd look.

"We aren't going far. What do you need to bring with you?" He asked.

"I... nothing, sir. Just sunblock, my phone, if something with your business happens I want to be on top of it. It's not heavy," I said and did a few squats as I slipped it on one shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Very well, Lincoln. Take water bottles for us too. But I expect you to keep up with me."

************

We drove the three blocks down to the park which was odd since we were going to work out. I left my backpack in the trunk, but took the water for us. I noticed it was almost completely guys in the park this morning. I know this is the gay part of LA, but I thought maybe there would be a girl or two or some families.

Some guys were holding hands and a few were laying together on blankets under the trees. A group was playing basketball and a few were running around with earbuds in their ears. As tight and revealing as our clothes were, I noticed they fit in well in this park. We got a few looks as Mr. Hamad led me over to a tree and showed me the stretches he did.

"Harder Lincoln, you need to be loose for our run. I don't want you holding me back," he said and pressed down on my back as I was stretching my right calf muscles.

"I won't be an issue, sir," I said and looked up at him, pushing my blonde hair back off my forehead. But he kept his hand on my back anyway, making sure I was pushing to his satisfaction.

I caught the eye of two latino guys who were checking us out from behind. I guess this position left my ass on display. He raised a short nod to me with a smile and his tongue took a quick tap at his lip. I looked up at Mr. Hamad again, this time with a blush. He had noticed the guys. He looked slightly amused at my modesty.

"It's how things are here, Lincoln. Time to grow up." With that, we were off. we ran down through the park and then up to Santa Monica Blvd. We got stuck by the light, but then made our way up the steep hill of San Vicente. I was keeping up with him and only fell behind because he kept seeming like he was going to dart off on some side street. This was his route, I fell behind and followed inches behind him so he would know I was there and not holding him back.

We went down Sunset, or up, it seemed like all we were doing was climbing. My legs weren't used to this and I was glad every time we got stuck at a No Walk sign. But he just jogged in place and looked back at me to indicate I should do the same.

"Don't lose your heart rate, keep going," he said sounding a little out of breath himself. Down Sunset we crossed into Beverly Hills and Mr. Hamad followed the sidewalk as it splintered off into a side street. I rounded the corner behind him and my heart sank. It went almost vertical.

I was dripping sweat and the sun was pounding overhead. I'd put on sunblock and a little was dripping down into my left eye. It was stinging and got worse when I wiped at it with my sweaty hand. But I followed. I wasn't going to be the one to end this and prove him right.

My legs were burning as we loped up the hill. He was breathing heavy too, looking at me with coffee colored eyes that seemed to say, "Damnit, give up!" I wasn't going to do it. I forced a smile and jogged up to his side, pushing past my screaming muscles. I wanted to vomit and if I'd slowed down, I probably would have.

We made it to the top of the hill and the street plateaued and jogged to the right. We paused there and slowed to a walk as he tried to hide his gasps for air.

"This.... this is what I... wanted.... you... to see..." Mr. Hamad held his chest trying to look leisurely. He spread a hand behind me and I turned to see the view of the LA basin. It was really something spectacular. We kept walking down the street and soon it opened up to another long view, this time towards downtown.

"Pretty awesome," I said, between deep breaths. "Definitely worth it," I lied. I wanted to lay down and die here. My body was drenched, my lungs felt fire, and my stomach twisted like I'd eaten leftover sushi from a dumpster. No I've never done that, but it's the worst thing I could picture.

We kept walking, very slowly. We were both experienced enough athletes to know that sitting down would likely lead to throwing up. The phrase "walk it off" really does have some tread on it. We got to the end of it where the street met a gate leading up to a huge stone mansion.

We headed back to the park. We did catch our breath and ran the last mile or so back. The heat was getting bad now and the tourists were out in full force as we made our way through Beverly Hills. We stopped at a juice bar and Mr. Hamad got us green smoothies as we headed back towards our car. We were sopping wet and my shirt was now transparent against my pale skin. It didn't show much skin, just the contour of my muscles and the pink of my hardened nipples. The shorts though, they pretty much displayed the pink jock. I noticed it when we got back to the park and the guys were now looking down there instead of my face.

I turned to Mr. Hamad who looked a little guilty. He'd planned this little humiliation. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction though. I puffed out my chest and walked on. I was determined to meet his every challenge.

When we got into the thick of the park gays, I told Mr. Hamad we should stretch out for recovery. I did my best to keep my ass on display as I exaggerated some of his stretches and kept asking him, "Is this ok, Mr. Hamad? Is this how we do it? My ass feels funny." I laughed to myself and noticed we were drawing a small crowd. They were damn shameless here.

"That's enough Lincoln," he said without humor and moved behind me.

"That's what you wanted, right sir? You wanted to show me off?" I looked behind me and up to meet his serious eyes.

"I said that's enough, let's go," he said coldly and walked off towards the car. He paused by the tree to let me catch up.

"Damn it, go away," he waved a hand next to his ear and swatted at something, "I hate bees."

I froze as I saw the bee angrily buzz away from him and it headed right towards me. I thought if I froze it would leave me alone, but a split second later I felt a piercing sting on my arm.

"Ahhhh!" I let out a scream and the crowd that was starting to disperse turned and looked at us.

"It's just a bee, Lincoln, don't be such a baby," Mr. Hamad said, annoyed and angry with me.

"I..." I felt my heart pounding in my ear now and my throat was starting to swell. I gasped for air and felt lumps filling out and closing off my airway.

"Backpack... pen... allergy... die," I croaked out and he suddenly looked at me seriously.

He started towards me, but then my words registered with him. "Reaction! He's having a reaction. Epinephrine. The backpack? Trunk! Watch him, please! Someone help while I get it." He took off towards the car, jumping over picnics and swearing loudly. "Fuck Fuck Fuck! Move Queer! Emergency!"

I sank down against the tree, gasping for air and a thin blonde man came towards me.

"Lay back," he said with authority. He laid my head on the grass and tore off my t-shirt. He tilted my head back and took hold of one wrist, holding it up to check my pulse.

"Relax, your boyfriend is going for your allergy pen, just relax," he stroked my chest, pushing against my abs to help me get some air.

And then he was back, Mr. Hamad threw my backpack down and dug into it tossing all of my things around on the grass. He took out the pen and sat next to me against the tree and then pulled me into a sitting position in his lap. He pushed at my shorts and the thin blonde man helped slide them off of me. I had a sudden worry that everyone was seeing me in the pink jockstrap.

Mr. Hamad raised my left leg, exposing my smooth pink asshole to the growing crowd. He put the pen to his lips and tore off the cap to expose the needle. He jabbed it into the inside of my thigh and depressed the plunger to give me the medicine. I laid back against his chest as he finished. I looked over at him as he stared down at my thigh, his face full of worry.

I laid my head against his strong shoulder. His left hand was wrapped around me and held my abs as his right hand worked the needle. He finished and slowly slid it out. He started to set it down, but the blonde man shook his head.

"There's a needle disposal near the bathrooms, I'll take it there." He stood up and looked down at me, "You'll be ok sweetie."

"Thank you," I gasped, feeling my throat start to open a little.

Mr. Hamad stroked my stomach with his left hand and pulled my legs closed with his right. He folded my knees up into my chest and secured them with his arms. He protected my modesty, to the disappointment of the onlookers.

"Breathe with me, sweet boy," his deep whisper into my ear as his lips brushed back and forth over my earlobe. He turned my face up to look at his. He inhaled slow and deep, then exhaled blowing into my lips. We did this a few times until my head stopped throbbing so much.

"Your color is returning," a small grin crept across his lips. He gave my nose a kiss.

We laid there together and Mr. Hamad waved the crowd away. Some lingered and others slunk off but tried to watch us discreetly. I guess a teen muscle stud in a pink jockstrap was something of a gift to these guys. I smiled to myself at that. We must have looked pretty funny. Two strong guys, holding each other under a tree. I noticed the contrast of our skin. He was a little older, rougher, dark, hairy. I was smooth, pale, a whiter shade of white. There was something about the way his arms slid around me though, protectively, not how he'd touched Derek. But i wasn't his "whore" either.

"You lied to me," he whispered firmly.

"I'm sorry sir. I really wanted this job. I promise it won't happen again," I said softly.

"You can't make promises for bees, idiot. You lied and it almost cost you your life. You are a very stupid child for going off without that pen in your pocket. You try to prove you can be as much of a man as I am, but you're still just a child, Lincoln." He stung me worse than the bee.

"I'm sorry, sir. Please don't fire me. I'm ok now, sir. See? I can stand," I tried to stand up, but instantly felt light headed. I started to stumble towards where the man had folded my shorts. I reached for them and stumbled forward. Mr. Hamad caught me before I faceplanted in the grass.

"Just a child," he said again and put an arm behind my knees, sweeping me off my feet like a groom carries his bride across the threshold. I held my shorts and he carried me over to his car.

*********

He raced to the clinic and parked in a red zone right near the entrance. He came around and pulled me out, lifting me from the seat.

"Please let me walk," I begged and he reluctantly set me on my feet. I'm not the lightest guy. I was in awe of how easily he swept me up. I'm also about an inch taller than he is and I'm not finished growing. But I still felt small standing next to him. Size isn't always about measurement.

"Wait Lincoln, put the shorts on," he held up the white shorts and I looked down to recall that all I had on was a pink jockstrap and new, white nikes.

"Oh," I blushed. He squatted down to help me and I stepped into the shorts, now torn and dirty. He pulled them up and cupped my ass in a two-handed squeeze after he'd pulled the waistband over it. I was getting used to his touch, his uninvited explorations. It added a level of brotherhood I'd had playing baseball. My teammates never hesitated to smack a butt or rub a back or squeeze wherever. It just felt natural.

I took a step forward and my legs felt weak again so he put an arm around my waist and had me lean into his side for support. His sweat was starting to dry up and it left a super potent smell on him. My mind flashed to the sweaty jock he was preparing for me in his shorts right now. My cock started to fill out in my jock as I breathed him. I would miss that most if he fired me.

We went inside and, of course, he immediately demanded service. "He's had a bad allergic reaction. He needs immediate care!" He yelled to an empty waiting room.

A dark haired, Indian man who looked to be about Mr. Hamad's age popped his head around a corner yelling back with an annoyed tone, "Have a seat!... oh," he stepped out and looked us up and down with a smile. "Yes, well let's get him checked out." He reached for me, but Mr. Hamad didn't let me go from his side.

"Sir, you'll have to wait out here and fill out some forms. I'll get him set up for the doctor. I promise I'll take good care of your... boyfriend?" The nurse said.

"No, no sir, he's not my boyfriend, he's my," I croaked out with a dry voice and Mr. Hamad interrupted me.

"Father, he's 16. I'm his guardian," Mr. Hamad lied without a hint of stress in his voice. "I'll go back with him. You can bring me whatever form to fill out back there."

The nurse shrugged and led us back to a small exam room. He patted the paper-lined leather exam table and I hopped up with help from Mr. Hamad. The nurse went to get the forms and my body gave a deep shiver as the cool air conditioning hit my sweaty skin.

"I'd give you my tank top, but it's pretty soaked as well," Mr. Hamad started to look around for a blanket or something to cover me with.

"What seems to be the problem?" A voice sounded as the door opened and an older Arab guy walked in. He eyed us both, sweaty and dirty. A half-naked muscled blonde teen on his exam table with the band of his pink jock peeking out above the band of the torn and tiny shorts. A mid-20's furry, muscled arab man looking worried about his boy. I'm sure the story-line in his head was quite exciting. He smiled at us.

"Some sexual mishap?" he guessed with a chuckle.

"No!," Mr. Hamad and I exclaimed in unison.

"Relax, I get those all the time in this neighborhood, nothing to be ashamed about. Square peg, round hole, simple enough, just get the shorts off and I'll have a look," The doctor went for rubber gloves.

"My son had a severe allergic reaction and I injected him with epinephrine. He needs to be checked out. His hole was not involved," Mr. Hamad said flatly.

He turned and said something in a foreign language and Mr. Hamad answered back in the same sounding language. They talked back and forth and the doctor came towards me and lifted my leg. He took an alcohol swab and rubbed around where Mr. Hamad had injected me and was pointing something out on my thigh and speaking in that language. I was getting annoyed and feeling like a dog at the vet.

"I'm feeling better," I interrupted as the doctor held up one of my arms and was pointing out something to Mr. Hamad about my right armpit.

They stopped and turned to me, remembering I was there.

"You are lucky to be alive," the doctor admonished. "You should always inform the people around you if you have a medical need, especially to your guardian."

I turned and looked at Mr. Hamad, "I'm sorry sir. Am I going to be ok?"

"For now, you will feel pretty weak and out of it until this works out of your system in the next few hours. I'm prescribing something to help, a new epipen and some pills to help you sleep on the long flight you have tomorrow," the doctor said to me and then went back to talking with Mr. Hamad in the language I guessed must be Arabic.

Mr. Hamad came to sit next to me on the exam table as the doctor put his stethoscope to different parts of me and explored me like Mr. Hamad had done in my interview.

Mr. Hamad rubbed my back and I was grateful for his warm touch. He and the doctor continued on as though they were old friends.

And then finally it hit me, "Wait, so I get to go with you? I'm not fired, sir?" I said with surprise.

"Again he interrupts the men trying to help him," the doctor said with an annoyed tone as his rough hands felt my pecs, squeezing them.

"He has much to learn about respect... and obedience," Mr. Hamad said, "But I think he can be trained."

I closed my mouth and lowered my head as Mr. Hamad rubbed my back muscles. They were sore and tense from the medicine in me. I laid back into his grip and he took my shoulders, roughly massaging them. I felt a chill over me and my dick stirred in my shorts. The two men continued on in Arabic and I went back to being the puppy in the vet's office being soothed and pet by his owner.

The doctor leaned in to my face and lifted my eyelids as I was getting lost in the rough massage. He checked out my eyes and gave me a soft smile. "Looks like you will survive this time," he said. He called in the nurse and told him what drugs we would need. The nurse never did bring those forms for Mr. Hamad to fill out.

He returned a few minutes later and handed a bag to the doctor who looked in there and threw in some samples of things from his cabinet. He handed them to Mr. Hamad who handed back a small wad of cash.

The doctor put a pill on my tongue and gave me a glass of water to swallow it. "This will help you heal."

We both thanked him and he gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. He shook hands with Mr. Hamad and then Mr. Hamad pushed me to my feet and steadied me on one arm as he took the bag in the other.

We got back to the hotel suite and he filled the giant bathroom tub with hot water and a mix of things that made it fill with bubbles and pop and fizz. He pushed off my clothes and helped me to get in. I laid back, looking up at him and said, "Thank you, sir."

I closed my eyes and started sinking down into the water feeling exhausted. The pill was knocking me out as it fought against the other drug in my system. I slipped under the water and then felt Mr. Hamad pull me back up to sitting position.

"Damnit Lincoln, are you determined to die today?" he laughed. He pulled me up and sat my bare ass on the ledge of the tub, leaning me against the cold tile wall. My legs opened and my soft cock sat against my heavy balls on the cold marble ledge of the tub.

"Let me help you," he said and stood and stripped off his tank top. In my stupor, I watched him, maybe a little too hungrily.

When he pushed off his shorts, I saw the jock he had on. "That one's my favorite," I heard the words float out of my mouth and then I raised both hands and clapped them over my mouth. Shit. I was busted.

"I know," he said matter of factly. He gave me a laugh and then pushed it to the ground, freeing that big brown monster he kept down there. It was soft but swung loose and flopped out over his heavy, hairy low-hangers. Those nuts were huge. He flicked the jock towards the counter. He stepped into the bathtub and laid back where I had been. He patted his chest and I sank into the water again.

He pulled me into him so my back was against his chest. We were even now in the water and his head was right behind mine. He pushed me to the side a bit so I could lay my head back against his shoulder. I turned to inhale him. He hadn't washed his neck yet and it was a stronger scent than the expensive bath stuff he had in here.

In my drugged bravado I stuck my tongue out and touched it to his neck to taste his salty man juice. He laughed and pushed me away playfully.